Chandelier
by ScintillatingTart
Summary: The sequel to "Breathe Me". When everything else has gone wrong, how can one honestly expect it to ever be right again? (Ruth/Harry)
1. Chapter 1

This is the sequel to Breathe Me (or, How Harry and Ruth Learned to Love One Another and Deal With Almost Teenagers). I left Breathe Me off in a place with some finality, because it seemed like the place to end it. Now, this is the place to begin again.

I do not own Spooks in any way, shape, or form. I only own the voices in my head, and they will contest that whole ownership thing.

Chandelier  
>by ScintillatingTart<br>October - November 2014

* * *

><p>One:<br>The Dropbox

Malcolm had set up the online dropbox and Adam had given her the username and password. It was a way, simple and effective, to stay in touch with them. She was to access it once a month, download the information, and move on.

The first month, it had been updates on Mace's whereabouts and information on where to go when she needed a new falsified passport.

The second month, it had been orders to break away from the identities that they had given her when she'd started out.

The third month…

Ruth's heart broke.

The third month had been letters from Rose and Daisy, and their new school photos.

The fourth month, she was on the run.

The fifth month, she stopped running, but she didn't access the account, for fear that someone would be able to track it, and thus, her.

The sixth month, she bought a car and settled down enough to take a temporary secretarial job.

The seventh month, she quit the job and held her son in her arms for the first time, marveling at how she and Harry had managed, finally, to get what they'd wanted in spite of everything in the universe conspiring against them.

The eighth month, she accessed the box and downloaded fifteen gigabytes of ramblings from the previous months. Harry's letters, the girls' diaries, photos, scans of newspaper clippings, songs that Harry said were helping him through the absence of her.

The ninth month, she didn't check the box. It was too painful.

When she accessed it again, seventeen months had passed since she'd left England. Seventeen months of anguish, pain, and yet… such joy. Jamie had been born, had grown into a happy baby with his father's eyes, chubby cheeks, and pouty lips, but he was clingy, reticent, taciturn like his mother, always cautious and wary, despite his smile and outward cheerfulness. He was almost a year old, and she'd never been able to bring herself to take his photograph and send it via the dropbox. She didn't want Harry rushing out and doing something stupid, like tracking them down and finding them.

They'd moved from place to place, and she did odd jobs, keeping James on her hip as she went. She never let him go.

And she wasn't stupid enough to stay in one place after using the dropbox. She knew Malcolm hid a trace file in every compressed document he placed in the box. But it was only good for tracking where she was when she picked up the information.

So they moved on, and on…

Jamie looked up at her from the floor of the cheap motel and smiled. "Mama," he said. "Mama, up!"

She disabled the tracker as soon as she'd opened the zip file, and walked over to pick him up. "Oh, my goodness, love, you're getting so big! Soooo big and soooo heavy," Ruth murmured. "Are you mummy's big boy, Jamie?"

He beamed at her and tucked his face shyly into her shoulder.

"We're going to go on a long car ride tomorrow," Ruth said softly. "Would you like that?"

The baby squealed and yawned; it was past his naptime.

Ruth gave him a kiss and set him up on the motel bed, tucking him in with his blanket, his naptime pillow, and his stuffed bear she called Harry. It was only a few minutes before he fell asleep and she began to gather their things up into bags. She wouldn't stay more than an hour.

It wasn't running, exactly.

It was keeping him safe.

That's what she told herself every time they fled like a thief in the night.

This was all to keep them safe.

* * *

><p>They finally stopped running.<p>

She took the name Sarah Walker and took a job teaching Classics and Latin at an upscale ex-pat boarding school in New York City, catering to the displaced Brits with money and power. It was simple, it was elegant, and she shared an apartment in Brooklyn with one of her fellow teachers and her sister, a student at Columbia University. Ellen watched Jamie during the day and took all of her classes at night or online. Dannette and Ruth worked during the day and came home to grade papers and play with the baby.

It was simple and elegant in its simplicity.

She stopped thinking about the dropbox, but she never stopped thinking about her family, her old life. She never stopped thinking about Harry Pearce or the love that they shared, so keen, so honed, so sharp like a knife.

She never had any illusions that he would come to find her. The last place she'd accessed the box had been Miami. Since then, she'd been very careful to stay away from surveillance whenever possible. She'd grown out her hair, changed the color of it, and she had been very adroit in keeping the baby weight on instead of trying to lose it. She changed her clothing style and always came up with an excuse to shy away from the camera when it came out to play.

She was protecting herself. She was protecting him. She was protecting their children.

And it left her hollow, dead inside, rotting from the inside out, the sweet taste of despair and loss welling up within her like bile.

She hated herself for being so weak. She hated Oliver Mace for forcing her into this desperate flight for her life. She hated Harry for letting her leave. She hated herself even more for being a coward and not telling Harry about James Henry Pearce, the little boy who would never know his father's love.

She hated herself for crying in the night, smothering her sobs with her pillows so she wouldn't wake the baby or her roommates.

She hated herself for loving him so much.

Three years, five months, and twenty-eight days. Tomorrow would be twenty-nine days. And after that would come thirty and thirty-one. And the hole in her heart would only be that much bigger.

END PART ONE


	2. Chapter 2

Two:  
>Asunder<p>

She wasn't able to avoid the cameras when they were pointed at her, taking an award from the Mayor and the Governor for being teacher of the year for the state. Ruth knew she would be all over the front page of the papers; that something terrible would happen.

What she hadn't expected was nothing had happened. Despite her hyper-vigilant state, nothing had happened. No Oliver Mace on her doorstep, no Harry tracking her down and insisting she come home. Nothing at all.

Four years, three months, twelve days.

That was when life changed forever.

She trudged into her classroom and got her cuppa brewed so she felt human before the kids came in for first period Greek Literature. Lucy Parsons, the headmistress slash principal as she was referred to by basically everyone, came to a stop in her doorway. "Sarah, we've got a gentleman coming today to scout us for his children. He's a Knight of the Realm and might be shipped over here with his job. I do hope you'll be very pleasant. He's asked specifically to see your classes, after seeing the articles about your Teacher of the Year honors."

Ruth rolled her eyes and sighed. "Lucy, I really don't have the time to hand-hold a politician today. We're preparing for debates against Westbrooke –"

"Yes, well, someone else can handle that," Lucy said with a small smile. "Dannette, maybe?"

"I ask too much of Dannette," Ruth said with another heavy sigh.

"Sarah, look, I know it's hard for you with Jamie – but maybe what you need is a night out with the girls."

Ruth smiled sadly. "No, Lucy. What I need – what I really need – is something I can never have again. I need my husband and my family. And since that's never going to happen… No. Lucy, I'm not going out to the bar to drink and hop into someone's bed. That's not who I am."

Lucy's smile waned. "You can't pine for a dead man for the rest of your life, Sarah."

Ruth set her cup of tea down and said, "I'm sorry you don't understand, Lucy."

This time it was Lucy's turn to sigh. "Well, think about it for me, will you? Just think about it. And please play nicely with Sir William – he's a widower and quite upset about the idea of uprooting his children after losing their mother. I think you can understand that."

This time, Ruth rolled her eyes. "Yes, I can," she said. "When will he be sitting in?"

"Fourth period, and then you're to take the rest of the day and show him around the school and the grounds, please," Lucy said.

"Regency to Early Victorian English Literature then," Ruth said. "Good choice. We're about to start Charlotte Bronte's _Villette_." She picked up her mug again, and said, "Lucy, I didn't mean to snap a few minutes ago. It's just… our anniversary is next week. It's quite hard for me right now."

Lucy frowned and said, "All the more reason for you to escape."

"I can't, Lucy," Ruth said very softly. She held up her hand, showing off her rings. "I made a promise to him, and I shan't – I won't – go back on it."

"You loved him very much –"

Ruth shook her head. "I love him," she corrected. "It's never in the past tense. I love him so much my heart and head just ache with it, and being apart from him… just feels like hell on earth. I'm so lucky to have Jamie; he makes it easier."

"Your son must take after his father," Lucy said.

Ruth nodded a little and smiled. "Yes," she said softly. "He does." At almost three years old, Jamie was still chubby and still very much looked like Harry – albeit with her birthright of dark hair. He was spry and actively curious, picking up languages and words like they meant nothing but more information. He already spoke fluent French along with English, and he'd been reading and speaking in complete sentences and paragraphs since he was very small. She was so proud of him, of what he could do. And it only hurt a little to know that he was Harry in miniature.

But whenever her son smiled and his dimples came out to play, the hurt went away.

"Okay," Ruth murmured. "So I'm escorting Sir William….?"

"Oh, sorry – Sir William Cecil."

"Sir William Cecil. Never heard of the blighter," Ruth replied cheerfully. "What kind of job are we talking about?"

"You know, he didn't actually say," Lucy said.

"Which means either finance or government," Ruth said. "If he's in finance, it will be a low-profile visit because he will have better things to do. If it has to do with the Embassy, Consulate, or government, it will be a high-profile coup for the school to take on his children."

"Right," Lucy agreed. "So will you please do your best to be charming and seduce the man into it?" Lucy all but begged.

"God, you make me feel like a prostitute," Ruth grumbled.

"I'll bring you a nice bottle of wine if you do it, love," Lucy promised. "And I'll baby-sit."

Ruth held back a small smile. "Make it white burgundy and you've got a deal," she promised.

"Absolutely," Lucy said, clapping her hands as the first bell rang through the building, signaling the girls' erupting from their breakfasts and emerging in the classrooms. There were only about a hundred, and only twenty or so who slept on campus. But it was still enough.

Lucy disappeared as the six girls came in for first period. Ruth couldn't say whether she was pleased or frustrated – or somewhere in the middle between the two.

* * *

><p>"All right – so, we've had the conventional <em>Pride and Prejudice<em> study and then the poetry of Lord Byron, and now we're onto Charlotte Bronte," Ruth said, picking up a copy of _Villette_. The door to her classroom opened, but she didn't look up. If this Sir William Cecil wanted his daughters to attend Broadhurst Academy so badly, he was damn well going to see her teaching the students.

Jillian Morgan raised her hand; she was the fourteen year old daughter of one of the delegates of the UN. "Mrs. Walker, miss – why are we reading this instead of _Jane Eyre_?"

Ruth smiled at her. "Because everyone else reads _Jane Eyre_ – have you read it?"

"Yes, miss."

"Then why should you read it again?"

Jillian stared at her, stumped for a moment, before she grinned and nodded her understanding.

Ruth said, "How many of you have already read _Jane Eyre_?" All eight hands went up immediately. "Well, _Villette_ is quite similar in tone. You will be required to use your language skills in both English and French, so Miss Fontinblanc will be able to assist you with any questions you might have about the text in French. As will I, but she would appreciate you asking her instead. The story begins –"

By the time she had read the first chapter aloud and had asked a few questions of the students, the bell was ringing shrilly. She ignored her visitor completely, heading back to the kettle to make herself a cup of tea as her students disappeared. "Can I get you something – a tea? Instant coffee?"

The classroom door closed and latched with a click. There was a small, tense silence. She didn't look back at him, hadn't even been curious enough to look at him to begin with.

And then she heard, softer than she could imagine, a single word filled with emotion. "You."

"What?" she echoed, a bit startled.

"I'd almost forgotten how beautiful you are."

She dropped her mug, heard it shatter, felt the hot liquid splash across her shoes. But she didn't care; she was turning around to see if her mind was playing tricks on her. Her hand covered her mouth, smothering her gasp.

"Harry," she breathed, feeling like the world had stopped turning just for her. "Oh my god – you can't be here – why are you here?"

"To take you home," he said simply.

"No, it's not that simple," she said, shaking her head.

"Yes, it is," he said with a smile, taking a couple of hesitant steps toward her. "You've been cleared of all wrong-doing and your passport and identity have been reinstated…"

"No, Harry, it's not that simple," she repeated. She didn't elaborate – how could she? "What about my job? My friends here? I can't just walk away. I'm making a difference here."

"You would make a difference at home –"

Ruth shook her head and backed away from him till she was up against the wall. "It's been over four years," she said very quietly. "I'm not that person anymore, Harry. I'm Sarah Walker: I'm a teacher. I mold young minds into greatness. I'm not a spy anymore. I'm not anything but this. _This_, Harry."

He took one step, two steps, three, then four, toward her, his mere presence serving to weaken her defenses. By the time he pressed against her body, pinning her to the wall, she was almost weak with a longing she'd felt every day since leaving him. His mouth was hot against hers, his body taut with need as strong as hers. It was as if no time at all had passed between them, and yet, so long –

"Come home with me, Ruth," he whispered against her lips. "We need you so much."

"I can't," she breathed, knowing that this would be her undoing.

"Can't or won't?" he asked.

"I can't," she repeated, her voice cracking and breaking. "I can't, I can't, I can't –"

"My love," he whispered, wiping away her tears as they fell in torrents, "talk to me. I don't understand."

"I might have my identity restored, and I might have my passport, but I can't leave without Jamie," she sobbed brokenly. "Oh god, what am I going to do?"

He pulled away from her, stiffening, his mouth drawing into a taut line, his eyes unreadable. "Jamie," he repeated in a cold, emotionless tone. "I thought better of you, Ruth – I thought you'd keep your promise…"

She stopped crying and stared at him in shock. "What?"

"You can't leave without Jamie?" he repeated back to her. "He better be worth ending your marriage over –"

"NO!" she yelped, pushing past him and grabbing her phone off the desk. She flicked through her photos, finding one from the week before when Jamie had been so excited about the trip they'd made to the Zoo. He had posed with someone who had been dressed in a penguin costume, and he had the biggest smile on his face. "This is Jamie," she said quietly, handing the phone over to him. "James Henry Smith – he doesn't have a passport because it's a false identity. I was Miranda Smith when he was born, Harry. He's got a birth certificate, but not a passport. I won't leave without my son." The tears started afresh, and she whispered, "I can't leave without our son, Harry."

He looked up from the phone, his face slackening in shock. "Ruth –"

"I didn't know," she said very quietly. "Not till after it was all over and I was wandering. I couldn't – I wouldn't bring myself to tell you because it would put all of us in such grave danger. But now… now what are we going to do?"

He swallowed hard and said, "I'm owed several favors. Let me call them in. Our son will come home with us," he promised.

She exhaled and whispered, "I can't just up and leave –"

"I made your boss sign the Official Secrets Act," he said quietly. "I told her you've been on a long-term undercover mission for Five. And that it's time for you to be recalled. She's all right with it, I think."

"Did you tell her that you're Section Chief? Or that you're my husband?" she challenged.

Harry paused for a long moment, then said, "I told her as the DG. There have been a lot of changes, Ruth – a lot of shake-ups since you left."

She just stared at him. "If you're the DG, how are you here?" she asked, her voice high and tight. "You're meant to be in London, handling the world –"

"I had to bring you home," he said simply. "It's been too long in coming."

She inhaled, exhaled, felt dizzy and weak, but he caught her in his arms as she fell. "Oh god, Harry –"

"Shh," he whispered. "It's all right. It's all right."

"How did you find me?" she asked. "I suppose Malcolm saw me in the bloody paper –"

He sank with her to the floor, holding her close, cradling her as if she were the most precious piece of china he'd ever seen. "No, Tariq twigged it," he said softly. "Malcolm retired about a year ago, after…" Harry stopped and shook himself. "No, today must be a happy day," he said almost to himself. "We're together again – and I have a son. Tell me about my son," he requested in a thinly veiled order.

"I didn't know," she said very softly, "when I left. I thought for sure that the in vitro was going to fail with the amount of stress I was under, but… it took. I was so scared to do all of this on my own, on the run," Ruth admitted. "But I couldn't be anything but strong for our Jamie. He's such a good boy – so smart, so quiet, so loving, Harry." She smiled at him. "His bear's named Harry. He doesn't go anywhere without that bear. He says it's so he can talk to his daddy – I told him his daddy's name is Harry."

"Is he very sweet?" Harry asked. "He looks it –"

She held his hand, twining their fingers together. "He is our sweet, perfect little boy," Ruth whispered. "He's like Rose was when she was small."

Harry nodded and said, "We should make a move – the Ambassador is bringing your passport to the hotel in about an hour."

"Hotel?" she echoed. "I have an apartment I share –"

Harry brow furrowed. "Yes, but –"

"No, if we're doing this, we're going to my home," she said firmly. "So I can speak to the Ambassador about our son's need for a passport."

"All right," Harry said softly, reaching for his phone. "Give me the address and I will pass it on. But we have to stop at the hotel on the way – to pick up the girls."

She sat stock still. "You brought the girls?"

"I couldn't leave them behind, much the same way you can't leave Jamie," Harry said quietly. "The incident that forced Malcolm to retire… involved Ginny. She died, Ruth, horribly. Senselessly. Tragically. And I haven't been able to replace her. Malcolm cares for the girls now, but… his mother has been ill. So it's just been me. I couldn't leave them behind, you understand. So they're here. At the hotel. Waiting patiently for me to bring them a rather large gift."

"Am I?" Ruth asked very softly. "A very large gift, I mean?"

He gave her a gentle, feather-light kiss. "This will be all the Christmasses and birthdays all rolled together into one, my love," he whispered.

She leaned into him, and hoped that his words were truth.

END PART TWO


	3. Chapter 3

Three:  
>New Beginnings<p>

Of course, Harry had a driver and security officers. She wasn't certain she could say any of what she wanted to with a security officer sitting across from them in the limo. Of course, it was a stretch limo, not even a normal one. The Director General of MI-5 was clearly too important to take a normal hire car or a cab.

It was surreal, the drive to the hotel – holding Harry's hand and just looking out the window as uptown Manhattan disappeared behind them and they crawled into midtown. They stopped outside the back entrance to the St. Regis, and Ruth felt more than slightly faint. He and the girls were luxuriating in a hotel that charged more per night than her monthly rent; how could she compete? She didn't look like she belonged there, belonged with him…

"Ruth, come inside," Harry said softly. "Rose and Daisy are waiting for me."

She hesitated only a moment longer, then took his professed hand and let him guide her from the car and inside. They were escorted by six men and women who were probably armed to the teeth, and she wondered briefly if this is how the President felt.

"I've got two suites booked," he said. "The Imperial and the Presidential." He paused. "I suppose Jamie will be staying with us in the Presidential –"

"No, Jamie will be staying with me in my apartment," Ruth said softly. "Harry, I can't stay here."

The silence became awkward, until he said, "My security team will balk at me staying with you in Brooklyn."

"Then we're at an impasse," she said. "Not that we have room for anymore people in the apartment, anyway."

"Why won't you stay here?" he asked.

She sighed. "Because this is… too much."

"It's being paid for by Whitehall –"

"Harry," she said, "that's not the point. If this is what they give you in order for you to pick me up and bring me home, what about home?"

He blushed a little and said, "Well… we don't have the Rover anymore, or the old sedan. They've been replaced by a Bentley and a Rolls."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"All right, a Bentley and a Jaguar. The Rolls was excessive."

"Harry!"

The elevator stopped and he said, "Ruth, I'm joking. Nothing has changed at home, aside from the cars. And those only because the Home Office insisted."

"Do you do everything the Home Office insists?" she asked.

"When it pertains to the safety of my family, without hesitation," he said firmly. He stopped in front of a door and his security officer knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened, revealing another security officer who smiled at Harry. "Good morning, Irene – are my daughters finally up and around?"

"Yes, daddy," came a sweet, low voice. "Where did you go? Irene wouldn't tell us –"

"We ordered breakfast hours ago," came another voice, much higher in pitch and more melodic. "Have you eaten, dad?"

"You shouldn't worry about me," Harry said, stepping into the entry way. "I've just been out fetching a gift for you. It took a bit of persuasion, but…" He gestured for Ruth to join him. "Girls…"

Rose gasped and hurtled herself across the room as soon as she saw her mother. "OH MUM!" she shrieked, her high voice becoming positively shrill with excitement and pleasure. "I've missed you so much –" She flung herself into Ruth's waiting arms, beginning to cry.

Ruth, for her part, couldn't do anything more than hold her daughter. She couldn't see through the curtain of tears that had erupted from her, could barely breathe for the emotion that welled up within her. "Oh, Rosie," she choked out. "I've missed you, too – so very, very much, my love."

Daisy came over and took her dad's hand in hers. "Did she miss me, too?" she asked very quietly, not seeming to know how to play second fiddle.

"Of course I missed you, my silly girl," Ruth blubbered, releasing her hold on Rose long enough to pull Daisy into her arms and crush her. "I missed you both so much –" She kissed Daisy and Rose over and over again, hating all of their missed moments, not knowing when Rose had gotten so tall and so very thin, nor knowing when Daisy's hair had lightened to a strawberry blonde. Daisy was still shorter than Ruth was, and very curvaceous for a fifteen year old. Rose, at eighteen, was as tall as Harry was and willow branch thin, but with perfectly proportioned curves that she'd obviously inherited from her mother. "My god, look at you two – you're so grown up," she whispered.

Daisy smiled a little and said, "Mum, you look so different…"

"_I_ look so different?" Ruth teased.

Harry cleared his throat. "Are you two ready to leave?"

"Where are we going?" Rose asked, immediately grabbing her coat and purse.

"We're going to where your mum is living," Harry said.

"Are you coming home with us?" Daisy asked Ruth, refusing to let go of her.

"Maybe," Ruth said softly. "It depends on how quickly we can get some paperwork done. If it's not when you go back, it will be soon. I promise."

Daisy looked at Harry. "What paperwork, dad?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Never you mind," he said. "Your mum and I will be speaking to several parties about it. Now get your coat, Daisy."

Daisy ran to get her coat – a white and black plaid wool peacoat with a bright red beret and gloves – and came back obediently. "May I sit with you in the car, mummy?" she asked eagerly, still sounding so much like the little girl she had been.

"No," Harry said firmly. "You and Rose will sit across with Ray and Irene. I will sit with your mother."

Ruth looked at him, incredulous. "Excuse me? Are you honestly going to sit there and dictate what's going to happen in the car like some kind of bloody Winston Churchill, Henry James Pearce? I'll bloody sit by whom I like, I'll have you know –" Harry silenced her with a kiss that was just barely on the side of decency.

"Dad, get your tongue back in your mouth," Rose scolded. "Don't you dare give Daisy any more ideas."

Harry pulled back and blinked at Ruth, as if startled by the intensity of their desire. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

Ruth blushed and smiled. "Not in front of the children," she murmured. "Let's go – I'm suddenly quite anxious to get home."

The drive was a blur – all they did was talk and smile, happiness radiating throughout the car. Rose was going to start at Oxford in the fall, reading Classics like Ruth had. When Ruth asked why she wasn't already doing it, Rose had hesitated and looked at Harry, then gotten very quiet. Daisy immediately took over the conversation and started to talk about her friends and her boyfriend. And Ruth suddenly knew what Rose had meant by Harry not giving Daisy anymore ideas.

She was not ready to have teenagers: in her mind, Ruth's daughters were still on the cusp of teenaged, not the semi-adults that they had become. It was quite jarring, the fissure between her mental image and reality.

They pulled up to the curb outside her building, taking up most of the street-side parking. Ruth didn't even wait for the security officers, just burst out of the car and hurried to the door. There wasn't a doorman, and it was a walk up five stories to a two-bedroom apartment, but it was home. And Jamie was waiting for her.

When she let herself into the apartment, she heard Ellen reading in melodious French to Jamie, who was joining in with her excited voices. "Bonjour, Jamie!" Ruth called.

The reading stopped and the little boy tore out of the living room. "Mummy!" he cried. "Why are you home so soon?" He flung his little arms around her legs.

"Because I had to see you, my love," she murmured, picking him up and hugging him tightly. She gave him a kiss and smiled. "I have a surprise for you, Jamie."

"A good surprise or a bad one?" Jamie asked suspiciously. "Brussell sprouts were a bad one."

She laughed and kissed him again. "A good surprise," Ruth murmured. "Do you remember when I told you about your daddy Harry?" Jamie nodded and watched her intently. "And your sisters Rose and Daisy?" He nodded again. "They're here to meet you."

Jamie stared at her warily. "Why haven't they come before?" he asked with that taciturn almost anti-socialness of his.

"Because," Ruth said gently. "Remember I told you that your daddy and I love each other very much but had to live in different places?"

"New York and London," he said softly.

She nodded. "Daddy didn't know I had you," she said. "He didn't know you were in my tummy when I left – and neither did I. You're very special, James Henry," Ruth murmured. "You're our very special boy – and your daddy came to see you as soon as I told him about you."

"My daddy is here? Really?" Jamie asked very quietly. When Ruth nodded and gave his chubby cheek another kiss, he smiled. "Mummy, what if daddy doesn't love me?"

"He does," Ruth promised. "Of course he does – why wouldn't he love our special boy?"

"Will you be there?" Jamie asked shyly.

"I will," she murmured. "I will be there always, Jamie."

Ellen watched the exchange, then spoke up. "Should I make some coffee, then, or some tea?"

"You don't have to," Ruth said, "nor do you have to run off and lock yourself away, Ellen."

There was a hesitant knock on the front door, and Ruth moved down the entryway to open it. "Welcome to our home," she said softly, leading the way to the living room, Jamie still in her arms. He was watching the new arrivals with nervous, shy interest, but hid away in her shoulder as soon as he and Harry made eye contact. "It's not much."

Ellen smiled. "Hi, I'm Ellen – do you want some tea or coffee or Coke?"

"If it's not too much trouble, I'll help make a coffee," Rose said, following Ellen into the shoebox that was the kitchen.

Daisy looked around and said, "It's very small, mum."

"And there's four of us here," Ruth said cheerfully. "But we make do."

Daisy smiled at Jamie when he looked up at her. "Hello, there," she said. "What's your name, love? Is he Ellen's? He's lovely –"

"My name is Jamie," Jamie spoke up quietly. "Are you my sister Rose or my sister Daisy?"

Daisy stared at her mother. "I'm… I'm Daisy," she stammered.

Jamie smiled at his sister and said, "You're pretty, Daisy."

Harry laughed and said, "Yes, she is, isn't she?" He came closer and reached over to stroke the little boy's hair. "Hello, Jamie. I'm Harry."

Jamie hesitated a moment, pulling away from him, then said, "Daddy Harry?"

Harry nodded and echoed, "Daddy Harry."

"Mummy, let me down," Jamie murmured. "I gotta show daddy Harry my teddy Harry."

Ruth let the struggling boy down to the floor, and he ran off to the bedroom. When he came back, he had the old fuzzy teddy bear that had seen better days in his hands. "Daddy Harry, this is my teddy – his name is Harry, too," Jamie announced. "Wanna hold him?"

"I would love to hold him," Harry said, accepting the toy, understanding that it was important to the little boy that he did.

Ruth said, "He doesn't let anyone hold his bear. Not even me. I have to wait till he's asleep to wash Harry Bear up."

Jamie was looking at Harry expectantly. Harry smiled down at him and passed the bear back to the small boy's waiting arms. "He's a very good bear," Harry said softly. "He takes good care of you."

Jamie nodded. "Mummy said he's for when I don't have my daddy. But you're here now."

"I am here now," Harry agreed. "And I don't ever want to be apart from you and your mummy again."

The boy's face lit up and he clung to Ruth's leg. "Mummy, did you hear that?" he whispered.

Ruth nodded and ruffled his hair. "I did," she murmured.

Jamie shyly said, "Daddy, can I have a hug? I like hugs; mummy says hugs are the best because you can feel the other person's heart beating."

Harry shared a meaningful look with Ruth, and she bit her lip. Then he knelt down and opened his arms, murmuring, "Jamie, come here and give me a hug, please?"

The little boy released his mother and took the few steps to fall into his father's arms. He hugged Harry as tightly as his little arms would allow, and then he smiled. "I never had a daddy before," he said in quiet wonder.

"Will you show me your room and your things?" Harry asked softly. Jamie nodded and took his hand eagerly, all but dragging him from the room.

As soon as they were gone, Daisy rounded on Ruth, betrayal in her eyes. "You just had another kid to replace us, then?" she asked, her voice clipped and full of anxious hurt. "How could you, mum?"

Ruth felt dreadful, like she'd been punched in the gut. "I would never replace any of you," she said very quietly. "Never –"

"Then what's this?"

Ruth hesitated. "Daisy, we'd been trying to have another baby for over a year, and we were about to give up. I had an in vitro implantation done only a couple of days before I had to leave – I never thought it would actually succeed when the others had failed," she said honestly. "And once I knew, there was no going back; I wasn't going to let anything happen if I could help it. And your brother is an amazing, very special boy. Just as you and Rose are incredibly special, strong women. I would never try to replace any of you because I just couldn't possibly do it."

Rose came out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee and a thoughtful look on her face. "I almost died," she said very quietly. "About a year ago. A man named Mani kidnapped us; he said you and dad knew where some very valuable cargo from Baghdad was and that if daddy didn't tell where it was, we would all die one by one."

Ruth's hand flew to her mouth, but she couldn't say anything: what could you possibly say to that?

"His thugs killed Ginny," Rose continued. "And I was next."

"Oh god, please tell me he didn't –"

Rose shook her head, almost imperceptibly. "No, daddy didn't break," she said very quietly. "But I was so scared, mum. They had a gun to my head and… and Uncle Malcolm talked him down. The man who was going to shoot me. But all that time, I was sat there, thinking I'd never get to see my mum again." The tiny, vulnerable side that her daughter exuded made Ruth feel so very, very guilty for not having been there. "Mani was very mad that you'd managed to hide yourself so well from him," Rose said with a little smile. "He slapped me when I said it was because you're the best spook there was, and it was so worth it."

"But I'm not," Ruth said very softly. "I'm just a teacher –"

"No," Rose said simply. "You're my mum. And that's enough."

Ruth was careful not to jostle the mug as she took Rose into her arms, knowing how difficult it was for her to talk about what had happened. "I love you and your brother and sister more than I can ever say," she whispered. "And I never wanted to leave you. Not ever."

Rose nodded and whispered, "I know. Daddy said you didn't have a choice."

"I didn't," Ruth said softly. "But now I do."

Daisy said, "What's that, then?"

"Whether I stay here tonight or go back to the hotel with you lot," Ruth said softly. "Either way, my intention is to go home with you as soon as Jamie and I can."

Daisy joined the embrace and held on for dear life. When Harry and Jamie came back into the room, Jamie said, "Mummy, my turn, please? Please don't cry, mummy – you're s'posed'a be happy!"

But even as they all held one another in a large group hug with Jamie and Ruth at the center, she couldn't help but cry for all the time they'd lost. She couldn't help but cry, thinking that her girls had ever doubted how much she loved them. She couldn't help but feel nervous and upset and emotionally exhausted by everything that had happened.

But Jamie's dimples on full display as he smiled happily at his father and sisters for the first time made it all so much better.

END PART THREE


	4. Chapter 4

Four:  
>Discretion and Valor<p>

"I really don't think we can fit more people in here," Ellen warned. The living room was already filled to bursting, and the Ambassador hadn't even arrived yet.

"Sister Daisy, sister Rose, you want to come play with me?" Jamie asked. "I don't gots lots of toys, but we can share."

Rose smiled at him and said, "I'd love to play with you, Jamie. What should we go play?"

"We can play a game," he said shyly, taking Rose's hand and pulling her toward the little room he shared with Ruth. Daisy followed them quietly.

Ellen regarded Harry dispassionately. "So, are either of you going to tell me what's going on?" she asked.

"Miss Fontinblanc… if I did, you would have to sign the Official Secrets Act," Harry said.

"Well… if you don't tell me, I shall be very angry," Ellen shot back. "Because, clearly, there's more to this than meets the eye. And if Sarah and Jamie leave, we'll not be able to make the rent and –"

"Ruth's portion of the rent will be paid out till the end of the lease," Harry said. "You mustn't worry about that."

Ellen bit her lip and then said, "I'll sign the bloody thing, then. I need to know."

Harry reached into his coat's inner pocket and pulled out a copy. She glanced over it, then signed with a flourish. "I am the Director General of MI-5," he said. "My name is Harry Pearce. The woman you know as Sarah Walker is really named Ruth Evershed –"

"Pearce," Ruth corrected softly. "It only changed a few days before I was forced to leave."

"Pearce – Ruth Pearce," he corrected himself. "She is my wife, and was the Senior Intelligence Analyst for the Anti-Terrorism Unit within MI-5."

Ellen blinked. "You're a spy, Sarah?"

"I was a spook," Ruth said softly. "But now, I'm a teacher and a mother first…"

"Ruth was on an undercover operation that went wrong," Harry lied smoothly. "She went into hiding and even I didn't know where she was."

"Well, I had to protect Jamie, didn't I?" Ruth muttered. She reached over and held his hand, feeling both at ease and ill at ease with him. He was just as suave as ever and it was unsettling after so long apart, to see him as the rest of the world saw him.

"And yourself," Harry said, the façade slipping for just a moment. In that moment, she could see the hell they'd both been living for four years. Then the curtains pulled shut again and he was back to his charming self.

"You must love one another very much," Ellen said. "You have a beautiful family." Her voice was tinged with envy. "And Sarah has always said how much she loves you – but we thought you were dead."

"I'm very much alive," Harry said. "But Ruth has done well to keep herself hidden. There are many people who would have had her – and Jamie – dead just to manipulate me."

"I suppose you intend to take them back to England, then?" Ellen asked.

"As soon as Jamie has a passport," Harry said.

Ruth was silent, torn between wanting to stay and wanting to go home.

"Have you asked Sar-Ruth what she wants?" Ellen asked. "Maybe she doesn't want to leave. Maybe life is calmer here than there."

Ruth swallowed hard and said, "No, Ellen, it's all right – I don't belong here anymore."

"Your _husband_," the word was said with somewhat snide distaste, "can't just show up and drag you off unwillingly, no matter how much you love him. It's not right. It smacks of domestic abuse."

"I would never hurt her," Harry said, his kindly demeanor suddenly replaced with bitterness. "Don't presume to think you know me, us, what we've been through."

"Harry, my love," Ruth said softly, "don't. Please." She gently traced calming circles in the palm of his hand like she'd always done. "Ellen, Harry is my second husband. My first husband was abusive and he killed himself to punish me for taking our children away from him. Harry is none of those things: if anything, he cares too much, and we're broken for not showing each other how much we truly mean to one another." She looked up at him hesitantly and murmured, "I'm ready to go home, Harry. I am. It's just… big and scary. And I'm scared because I've missed four years of my life with you and the girls."

"And I've missed just the same with you and Jamie," he said softly, leaning into her and resting his head gently against hers. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper."

Jamie ran back into the room, holding his favorite book. "Mummy, can you read to me about the capperpillars?" he asked.

"Come here, love," she murmured, helping him up onto her lap. She began to read the story of the ugly little brown caterpillar that turned into a beautiful butterfly. By the time she'd finished, Jamie was sound asleep in her lap and Harry was watching her with rapt love.

"You're such a good mum," Harry said softly.

"No, I'm rubbish," she replied with a tiny smile. "I'm overindulgent and I let my kids get away with murder." She kissed the top of Jamie's head and loved the smell of his clean hair, his still baby-sweet skin.

There was a sharp rap on the front door, and Harry all but leapt to his feet. "That will be Thomas," he said. "With your passport."

Jamie whimpered in his sleep and snuggled deeper into his mother's embrace. Ruth held him and wondered what was going to happen – if indeed, she would be permitted to go home with her son.

"Ruth, this is Sir Thomas Straithairn, the British Ambassador to the United States," Harry said. "Thomas, my wife – Ruth Evershed Pearce. And my son, James."

"Sorry if I don't get up to greet you, sir," Ruth said softly, gesturing at the napping child in her arms with her chin. "Ellen, can you get Sir Thomas a coffee or a tea or something, please? We won't be long, then the Inquisition can really begin."

Thomas sat down and pulled a small envelope from his briefcase. "Lady Pearce, I welcome you back to the land of the living – your husband has been very persuasive in his praise of your efforts on behalf of the Security Services and it is my pleasure to give you back your passport… updated with your married name, of course."

Ruth smiled a little and took the envelope. "Thank you, Sir Thomas," she murmured. "But we have a small issue in that our son was born under a false name when I was in hiding. I should really like to acquire a British passport for him and a certificate of live birth with his father's name."

"Ah, yes, that is a bit of a pickle –"

"No, it really isn't," she said cheerfully. "You owe me a favor, Sir Thomas."

"I… do?"

"I kept Harry here from blowing the whistle on your involvement in the British Way," she said, "because I saw the innate value of keeping you soft."

The Ambassador flinched. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

"So you will get me what I need or I will unmuzzle my guard dog," she said. After a moment, she added, "He's rather fond of our young lad, so I think he shall bite."

Thomas said, "Yes, of course – it shouldn't be a problem, m'Lady…"

"We have an understanding, then?"

The Ambassador licked his lips nervously and nodded. "It will be done, Lady Pearce."

"It had better be," Ruth said. She wasn't quite ready to sheath her claws; everyone had an unfortunate habit – including Harry, god love him – of underestimating just how without mercy she could be, nor how she could play the long game to execution without anyone having a bloody clue what she was doing. "Because I am in a position to use my knowledge of your involvement to decimate your career, your life, and your family, Sir Thomas. Do not think for one moment that I am just a barmy mother out looking for a handout – this is so much deeper than that. I've been running and hiding for four years, and I've honed my skills to a point that even MI-6 couldn't find me. Just think about what I could do to you if I so desire…"

Harry's grip tightened around her hand, and the look he shot her side-long was one of shock, irritation, and more than a touch of awe. "Sir Thomas, there are more diplomatic ways of –"

"He has a forgery suite in the Consulate and a dedicated worker spinning Visas and passports," Ruth said dismissively. "It won't take but two days, at most. Will it, Sir Thomas? That's how long I had to wait for my Sarah Walker identity."

"It will be done tomorrow," Sir Thomas croaked weakly.

Ellen came into the room with a mug of tea in hand, and said, "Your tea, sir –"

"Thank you, but I won't be staying," Sir Thomas said, getting up from the recliner with some haste. "Things to do, people to see, wrongs to be righted…"

"You can deliver the package to Harry's hotel," Ruth said, handing over a small photograph of Jamie that she kept in her wallet and a copy of his birth certificate – from a hospital in the middle of nowhere, Kansas. "We will be staying there, anticipating the documents' arrival so we might go home."

Harry's grip tightened infinitesimally when she declared her intentions, and she began to think about the trouble of packing their things to move, yet again. They didn't have much: clothes, and a few toys, and a lot of books. A few stupid, incidental things that she and Jamie had picked up along the way because they reminded her of home, of Harry, or Rose or Daisy… Their life would fit snugly into a few boxes that would fit in the cargo of a jet and then they would be unpacked at home, in a place that she'd never dared hope to be again.

As Sir Thomas was led out and the door closed behind him, Ruth gave in to the very strong urge to weep. So many times over the years she'd been in exile, she had stopped herself, not given in, not breathed a word of how she was feeling because she had to be strong, she had to be a rock for Jamie and herself. But now… now, she was facing the uncertainty and absolute terror of how she would be received, back from the dead and walking about like she had never left.

She had been branded a murderer, a torturer, and she had been none of those things, not ever. Unless you counted the numerous things she'd done in collusion with Five, bringing other people down. How could she not be held responsible for those things, but for Mik Maudsley and Cotterdam, she would be held so responsible that her life would be destroyed?

Jamie woke up and mumbled, "Mummy, why you cry?"

"Because I'm happy," Ruth choked out. "I'm so happy to see your daddy and sisters – and we're going to go home, Jamie. We're going to go home soon."

"But… this is home," he said, stirring to a more alert state. "Isn't it?"

"This is where we live right now," Ruth said, making an effort to stop crying. When she could speak again, she whispered, "But home is with daddy and your sisters. Far away from here in London."

"Oh," Jamie said with that wide-eyed innocence of a child. "We're going to live with daddy Harry?"

Ruth nodded and gave him a kiss. "Would you like that?"

"Does that mean daddy Harry loves me?" Jamie asked.

"Of course I love you, Jamie," Harry said softly. "You're a very intelligent, handsome little man – and you're my son." He smiled over at Jamie and released Ruth's hand long enough to ruffle Jamie's unruly, curly hair. "And I would like nothing more than for you and your mummy to come home and live with me."

"Can I bring my books and my toys and Harry Bear?" Jamie asked, worried.

Harry smiled and nodded. "I would be very disappointed if you didn't bring them," he said softly.

Ruth swallowed hard and murmured, "Harry, we don't have much to take with us – we can pack it up and take it back to the hotel today."

Harry turned to face her then. "You're coming back? What about that nonsense you were –"

"I was frightened, but now… I'm not. Not really. I'm anxious, but it's not the same thing, is it?"

"No, it's not," he agreed.

Ellen came back into the room and saw them talking. "I, uh… I overheard your conversation with the Ambassador," she said quietly. "The Sarah I know would never have – never – threatened someone like that."

Ruth shrugged a little and murmured, "I'm not the Sarah you know. Not really. Not anymore." She exhaled weakly and said, "Tell Dannette that I'm sorry. Tell her… tell her that I was running, but now it's time to go home."

Ellen nodded and said, "Who will take care of Jamie?"

"I will," Ruth said firmly. "Don't you dare worry about us, don't even think about us. We never existed, and there's no reason for you to remember a time when we weren't happy. Do you understand, Ellen? You're so much safer that way."

"I'll help you pack," Ellen said quietly. The trust that they'd held each other in had been shattered; now only shards remained.

"Jamie, would you like me to read to you?" Harry asked. "Mummy and Ellen are going to help Rose and Daisy pack your things." He opened his arms, and the little boy all but flew into them, getting comfortable on Harry's lap.

Ruth felt a small pang of regret for all the things that could have been, but never more could be.

* * *

><p>When they got back to the hotel, Jamie just looked at everything in wonder. There were a lot of people milling in the lobby, and she wondered if they were judging them – Jamie's jeans were too tight and torn in the knee, but his coat fit properly and he looked like a little Inuit with his furry hood up. She wasn't faring much better in an old, shapeless woolen coat that had seen better days… but it was Ros's coat, the one that she'd been wearing when the boat had taken her away. She couldn't bear to part with it, even when it began to fall apart and let the cold winter wind in. Her sweater was similarly shapeless and old, her skirt knee-length and flared, her boots battered and old. How many people judged her for walking beside Sir Harry Pearce and his children, immaculately and expensively attired?<p>

"Mum," Rose said, "since we're here a few more days, can we go shopping?"

Harry smiled. "Of course you can," he said. "We'll all go. Including the security officers."

"Jamie could use some new clothes," Ruth observed quietly as they were all bundled into the staff elevator. "He's grown quite a bit and his jeans are about shot. And there are holes in his shoes."

Jamie made a face. "I don't like shopping," he said. "Except for books. I like shopping for books."

"Then we shall go get you some new clothes," Harry said cheerfully, holding Jamie's hand tightly, "and then we will go shopping for some new books."

The group went their separate ways, the girls and their team being bustled into their suite, while Harry, Ruth, and Jamie continued on to theirs. The little boy, in his arctic coat and hood, and his torn jeans, clutching his teddy tightly in his mittened hands, looked around the hotel room and stood very still. "Mummy, this is bigger than our house!" he cried.

"I know, darling," Ruth said softly.

He finally moved, running over to jump on the sofa and take his mittens off. "It's nice and toasty in here," the little boy commented.

Harry looked over at Ruth and took her hand, smiling. "He's very much like you," he said softly.

"Well, he's had no one but me," she pointed out, "to model his behavior after. I'm sure you'll be infuriated by some of his stunts."

"Mummy, my zipper is stuck," Jamie whined. "And I've got to go to the loo."

Ruth released Harry's hand and immediately went to help him. "You'll have to ask daddy where the loo is," she murmured to the little boy. "Or you could ask him to take you?"

"Daddy, will you take me to the loo? I've got to pee," Jamie announced as soon as he was free of his coat. "Please?"

Harry gave Ruth a dour, suffering look that bespoke of too many times doing that with Graham in the past, then he smiled at Jamie. "Of course, son," he said, leading the way.

"Daddy, no, you've gotta hold my hand so nobody takes me," Jamie scolded loudly.

Ruth blushed a little, but couldn't bring herself to feel remorse for teaching him that. She carried Jamie's backpack – which held his pajamas, slippers, and some books – into one of the bedrooms and laid it down on the bed. He would be sharing the room with one of the security officers, who would be responsible for his safety. It had already been discussed, and this Erin Watts had a young daughter, so she was, in Harry's eyes, the perfect candidate.

The rest of their security detail were housed elsewhere, aside from the two officers that would be watching the suite from the living area.

Ruth wanted to put her bag in the other small bedroom, but she knew that Harry expected her to stay in the master with him. She wanted to share a bedroom with him, but it felt very odd, very strange, to contemplate at length. They had nothing in common now, but for the children. She was a teacher; he was the grandmaster of spies.

All they had between them was a tenuous thread of desire, light and strong as a single strand of spider's silk.

And was it enough?

END PART FOUR


	5. Chapter 5

Note: So, okay, there was this amazing Ethiopian place I ate at in Manhattan once and I don't remember what it was called. So I did a search and came up with this other place called Injera that will work in a pinch (aside from the fact that it just opened in 2014), so I mean, creative licensing and all that jazz. (Maybe I should actually keep tabs on the places that I eat at in other cities so I don't look like a dumbass when I have to revisit them later for things like this? Or is it weird to be all, "Oh hey, I ate uni at Such And So on Here and There Lane in Los Angeles!"? I'm an idiot. Don't mind me. It's also a little after 2 am when I'm writing this, so there might be that.)

* * *

><p>Five:<br>Tremulous Desires

Harry insisted that they sit together on the same side of the booth, and it was making her anxiety level rise astronomically. It was bad enough that he had bulldozed straight over her and insisted that the kids do things with their security officers – or together, because he wasn't really that specific on what the children were doing for dinner – while they went out for dinner. But to add to it a level of intimacy that they didn't really share at the moment? It was a nightmare.

She'd gotten dressed in her best dress – a simple navy wrap dress that clung maybe a bit too tightly in places (because, to be honest, Ruth had given up on dieting and there were some ills that only a pint of ice cream could cure) – and a pair of heels that was going to have her crippled by the end of the night, and still felt like all eyes were on her as they left the hotel. She hated that so much, but when Harry walked through a room with such bravado, commanding, if not demanding, interest, it made the lines blur just a bit.

But the way he treated her, the way he was showering her with affection in his own quiet, soft Harry way… it made everything better. He could be so sweet when he wanted to be.

She was still anxious, however. She couldn't tell if it was bloody nerves, or if it was the fact that he was so damn close she could almost – But it didn't matter because her heart was pattering erratically in her chest, and her stomach was lurching.

He'd taken her to an Ethiopian restaurant called Injera, on Abington Square in the West Village, and he had pulled her next to him in the booth before she could protest and take the chair on the opposite side of the table. The food was amazing, but the constant nearness of Harry was disconcerting. Especially when he eagerly fed her pieces of his dinner. "Try this," he insisted.

She parted her lips and took the proferred bite, chewing thoughtfully. "It's good," Ruth murmured. She held up a bite of hers. "You try mine," she said softly. While he chewed and smiled, she said, "Can you imagine the furor that would happen if people realized that the head of MI-5 was just feeding one of his former officers food that's not been tasted by a security team?"

He chuckled. "Gavin is in the back, supervising our food," he replied.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course he is," she muttered.

"Hey, now," he scolded.

She reached for her wine and said, "I keep meaning to ask… how the hell did you end up being Director General, anyway?"

"I killed the last DG and took his place," he deadpanned. When she recoiled in something akin to horror, he laughed. "Ruth, seriously? He resigned and they promoted me on the spot. I didn't have a choice."

"He must have done something dreadful –"

Harry sighed and finished his glass of wine. "Yes," he said quietly. "He did." And that was that; a simple dismissal of the question of what had happened. "And I've been DG for eight and a half months," he added. "In my thickly-carpeted seventh floor office where, more often than not, I do pace like a caged animal," he teased, bringing to mind the early part of their marriage, making her blush unbidden.

She smiled a little and murmured, "D'you know… this feels like a date. A second date. Not the completely awkward first one where you're just getting to know one another, but the one where you're not quite sure where you stand –"

He glanced at her and said, "If you'll remember, our first date was drinks in a pub. And our second – and I do consider them separate – was two days of intensely passionate sex where we conceived our lovely Margaret. So, no, this doesn't feel like a second date to me." He reached over and held her hand, looking at her intensely. "We don't have a status quo, now, and I understand that. I know you're nervous and frightened – it doesn't take a genius to see it, my love. But nothing has changed for me. There is no one else in this life for me to love as I do you."

She hesitated, then decided it was safe. It was just them, sitting, eating, enjoying the company of one another. And if they were ever going to be happy again, if they were ever going to keep their marriage alive and functioning, she was going to have to be honest. "I was so angry when I found out I was pregnant," Ruth said quietly. "Angry at the universe in general because it wasn't fair at all – we'd tried three times and then a fourth and I went into exile and couldn't tell you. I was scared, moving from place to place – and I had to get out of Europe. Mace found me in Italy and I had a very narrow escape. So I came here and used one of my old hacker friends to get as far underground as I could. By that point, I was about to have Jamie and all I could think about was how unfair it was that, once again, you couldn't be with me." She held his hand tighter.

"Ruth, if I could have, you know I would have been," he said very softly.

"I was never angry with you," she whispered. "Never – okay? I never blamed you for any of it, because I was the one that took it on. I made myself live in the shadows so you could take on the world." She paused and looked at him for a long moment. "The labor was very hard, bad… they almost lost both of us. That's why he's so precious, Harry. Jamie is a second chance at life, and I would do anything – anything – to protect him."

"I know you would," he said. "And so will I, now." Harry smiled a little and squeezed her hand. "It's time for me to stand on the wall for both of us again," he murmured. "I'll take the arrows and you plot their demise." He winked and leaned in to kiss her, ever so gently.

"What happened that you became DG?" she asked.

"Not here," he said, the bit of joy in his eyes being extinguished. "I can't tell you here, in public."

Ruth nodded, knowing suddenly that it had been something catastrophic. "Maybe it should wait till we get home," she murmured. "You never know who might be listening."

"Truth never fell from anyone's lips as beautifully as yours," he said softly. "I've missed you so badly, Ruth."

She saw the sadness, the sad longing that should never be on his face again now that she was here. And she realized that holding him at arm's length would do neither of them any good now. So she whispered, "Harry, you have no idea." And she kissed him with all the force of nature – inviting him to experience the way she felt with him again.

When they broke apart, they were both smiling. "Gosh, that's good," she managed to exhale, giggling a bit. "I'd almost forgotten."

"I'm never going to let you forget again," he said in a no-nonsense firm voice. "We need to finish dinner and then we can go back to the hotel and…"

"And… yes," she said, not blushing, but not exactly meeting his eyes, either. It had been a long time and it was silly how fast she was getting wound up just because he was there. His smell, his touch, his manner… all combining to make her feel weak and giddy and full of pent-up want. There was no way to deny it: he sparked something within her that was positively electric.

Life.

He sparked life within her; otherwise, she was dead.

It was an unsettling realization, but not entirely unwelcome. Harry was the yin to her yang, the piece of her that balanced her, the only person besides her children that she would actually give her life to protect. And she had done, hadn't she? She'd finally proven her worth to him.

"Harry, I –"

"Ruth, finish your dinner," he murmured, kissing her again, this time with the gentlest of simmering passion. "I want to check on the kids."

So did she.

* * *

><p>Erin Watts smiled at Ruth. "He's quite something, your boy," she commented. "He's about the same age as my Rosie."<p>

"Did he put up a fight about bath time or going to sleep?" Ruth asked.

"Not a bit," Erin replied. "But he did ask where you and Sir Harry were. I told him that you went out to dinner to talk about some things and that we should have eggs and soldiers for supper."

Ruth exhaled in relief. "You did the right thing – that's his favorite meal," she said, leaning down over the little boy in his bed and giving him a kiss. "Mummy loves you, dearest," she whispered. "Sleep well."

Erin looked at her knowingly. "Now that you've checked in, you should go," she teased a little. "Nothing will happen to him tonight, Lady Pearce."

"Ruth," Ruth corrected. "Please."

"Yes, ma'am," Erin replied. "Lady Pearce," she added for good measure.

Ruth sighed and rolled her eyes, leaving the room. She met Harry in the living area and said, "Okay, now that I know all three are safe –"

He cut her words off with a kiss, and smiled against her lips. "Now?" he said softly.

She made a firm decision that, since he sparked such life in her, she would take that life and live it to the fullest. She took him by the hand and led him to the master bedroom. Once the door was closed, she breathed, "I never stopped hoping I'd see you again, Harry. I never stopped believing that we'd make love again and be happy again –"

"I don't want to push you," he said softly. "It's been a rather shocking day for you, what with all of us showing up and dragging you off to a posh hotel and kidnapping your son –"

She smiled and kissed him. "I've never been so happy to be abducted," she teased gently. "And you're not pushing me. We need this – it's been over four years since we've held each other, and let me tell you… I wish it hadn't been. Every day, I wish Cotterdam had never happened."

"If wishes were horses," he replied with a sigh. "I have many regrets, Ruth. Being with you is nowhere on the list. Being apart from you, however, is my number one regret. And I've managed to cock everything up so I've done it twice now. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry –"

This time, she was the one silencing him with a kiss. "No more regrets," Ruth whispered. "Not tonight. Tonight, we celebrate being back together. Tomorrow, we can look at all the problems, but tonight… I just want to be with you." She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on tightly. "I love you, Harry. So much."

His arms came around her and they just held on for dear life. "I love you more than I can ever say," he whispered into her hair, near the shell of her ear, his breath tickling her and making her feel warm and needy in places that hadn't stirred in a while. "I am lost without you."

"Good thing you found me, then," she teased, kissing the edge of his jaw, holding him tighter. It felt so right, so simple, so them. They were very simple creatures, really – they just needed each other. It had been that way since they'd met, neither really knowing until it was too late.

He inhaled deeply and murmured, "Ruth?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind terribly if… ah… if we –"

She rolled her eyes a little. Stammering, nervous Harry was not something she was adequately prepared for. Instead of letting him continue on in his adorable way, she let her fingers untuck his shirt and begin to free the buttons one by one. "Would I mind terribly if we were to undress one another?" she asked softly. "Of course not, my love. That would be delightful – I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

"With all my scars and my spare tire?" he snorted.

"Harry," she said softly, getting him to look down at her. "In case you hadn't realized, I love you, you stupid old git. Not your scars and not your spare tire." His eyes sparkled, and she added, "Of course, I don't know if you'll still love me… I've put on thirty pounds and gone up four sizes."

"Believe me, I'm all for that," he said with a grin, cheekily pinching her bum.

She squealed and swatted at his hand. "That actually hurt," Ruth pouted.

"Want me to kiss it and make it better?" he asked.

She stared at him in disbelief, then burst out laughing. "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?" she asked. "You can't possibly be Harry Pearce – you're appalling at this seduction thing."

He sighed and looked wounded. "My own wife thinks I'm appalling –"

"No, I think your seduction routine is appalling. You are very appealing, as long as you stop pinching my bum and cease with the corny pick-up lines," she scolded. "Besides, if you want to seduce me, all you need to do is loosen your tie, my love."

His fingers immediately went to his throat and began loosening the dark blue silk tie, and she smiled as he took it off and tossed it away completely. "Better?"

"Mmm, yes," she purred. "I love the Harry beneath the tie," she added. "The one that only I get to see. That's the seduction, Sir Harry."

"I notice you haven't asked when I received the knighthood –"

She smirked at him. "Does it matter? I'm entitled to shag a Knight of the Realm," she added in what she hoped passed for a seductive, possessive tone.

"Do you want to?" he asked. "Shag a Knight of the Realm, I mean."

Her smirk turned to a fond smile and she undid the last two buttons on his shirt, baring his chest to her gaze. "You know what? I do believe I would like that – very, very much." She traced a lattice of scars, new to her, with a gentle fingertip, earning a soft noise from him and a shudder for the small effort.

"I'd like that, too –"

She giggled and said, "I suppose I could go find you a knight to shag, then…"

He spluttered, then chuckled. "Touche, my love," Harry said, moving in and kissing her gently. Each kiss grew in intensity, until she was moaning and stroking his skin, practically begging for more.

Between needy, desperate kisses and caresses, they undressed one another piece by piece until all that was left between them was skin. He touched her with such love, such wonder, learning the new curves and marks of a life lived on the sly that stained her body, making her whimper, shudder, come reflexively as his fingers danced over her skin. His tongue and lips moved against her, bringing her to a desperate crescendo of desire, a fever pitch with his name echoing in the night air.

It felt incredibly liberating to let go, to just feel – to let things just happen without fear, without consequences. To be back in his arms. His hands were softer than they had been (more desk work, less time in the field), and they touched her so reverently she wondered if he had taken up religion after all. But the dark short, deliciously naughty profanities as he joined her drove those silly thoughts from her mind altogether – any thoughts at all, really.

She lifted her leg higher, draping it over his hip, pulling him closer as he moved within her. They were close, so close, barely air between them, face to face on their sides, neither wanting anything less intimate than total abandon and surrender. Each kiss, each touch, was more intense than the last, working them into a state of bliss that didn't end when their orgasms did.

Their fingers were tangled together, resting limply against her thigh in the aftermath, their noses and foreheads resting together, their breath hot and full of passion and words that both wouldn't and couldn't be said – because words would never be enough. They never had been. It had always been this between them, this intensity, this need to crawl into each other and never let go.

How could she ever have thought that he would be indifferent when they met again? How could she have believed that his love could have waned? How could she have surmised that their passion wouldn't, couldn't, possibly be as intense as it had been before?

How could she have been so wrong?

He pressed his lips against hers and whispered, "No regrets."

"None," she murmured.

She was home, so long as she was with him.

END PART FIVE


	6. Chapter 6

Six:  
>In the Light of Day<p>

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. She felt Harry begin to awaken by the abrupt change in his breathing, the way he shifted a little, the way his arm tightened around her. She felt warm, safe, loved, for the first time in ages. And it was all down to him.

She sighed, still drowsy, and cuddled up with him. "G'morning," Ruth mumbled.

"Mmm," was his barely coherent reply. Then, after a moment, he inhaled sharply as if getting his bearings and realizing that she was there. "God's balls," he breathed, "I was half afraid yesterday was a dream."

She smiled and kissed his collarbone, as it was the closest part of him to be kissed. "Not a dream," she murmured. "Or, if it is, it's a very good one."

"I don't want it to be a dream," he mumbled, breathing deeply, inhaling the scent of her hair. "I want to be awake and you still to be here… and us to have really made love last night."

She smiled and replied, "Oh, we definitely did that. And I'm still here."

"What time is it?" he asked.

"About six-thirty, I think," she murmured. "Jamie will be up about seven. He's usually not up when I'm heading to work."

"What time's that?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

"I'm usually out the door by six to get to work before the traffic goes mad," Ruth replied. "What happened to my five am Harry wake up call, by the way?"

He mumbled, "My office hours are nine to seven, but I'm usually there till nine or later. So I tend to sleep till seven now."

"Oh," she said softly. "Getting old?" she teased.

"No, just… tired."

"Semantics," she murmured. "I'd better get up and dressed before Jamie comes barreling in."

"No, don't leave yet," Harry sighed. "Erin can take care of him."

"Harry, it's her job to protect him, not act as his mum," she scolded softly. "You can have me again tonight – and every night."

"Promise?" he asked hopefully.

"I promise," she murmured, giving him a light kiss. "Now, up and into the shower with me, and you should probably get on the phone and order some soft boiled eggs and soldiers – you'll be Jamie's best friend for life if you do."

There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like something – someone – running into the door. Then a whimper, and a plaintive whine. "Mummy, can I come in?" Jamie asked.

Ruth got out of bed in a hurry and wrapped one of the hotel's dressing gowns around her naked body, very cognizant of Harry watching her through hooded eyelids. She gave him a scolding look, then went to the door. "Jamie, love, mummy and daddy were still asleep," she said softly.

He pouted. "But mummy… it's time for breakfast. And I already got dressed."

"Okay, well, mummy and daddy aren't dressed yet," she said. "We just woke up, love."

He pouted more, then pushed right past her and hopped up onto the bed. "Daddy, get up!" he insisted. "It's breakfast time now!"

Harry groaned and pretended to hide under his pillow. Jamie poked him and giggled when Harry made a sound like a rumbly bear, then grabbed the little boy in a bear hug. Jamie squealed and squealed as Harry kissed him over and over again, then released him. "I'm up, I'm up," Harry assured Jamie. "Can you give mummy and me a few minutes to get ready for breakfast?"

Jamie sighed. "Do I gotta?"

"Yes, please," Harry said reasonably. "I haven't got any clothes on, and we don't want Miss Erin to get embarrassed."

"Oh," Jamie said. "Why don't you have clothes on, daddy?"

"Because it was very warm in here last night," Harry said. "Now, scoot – go tell Miss Erin what you want for breakfast. I bet it's eggs and soldiers, isn't it?"

"How did you know?" Jamie asked, eyes wide.

"Because that's what I like in the morning, too," Harry said with a smile. "Go on. Go tell Miss Erin. Mummy and I will be out in a few minutes."

Jamie scurried off the bed and out of the room. Harry looked at Ruth and smiled. "How did you –" she began, but stopped herself. "No, I'm going to go take a shower. Are you coming with?"

He all but sprang out of bed in all of his naked glory, and she fought a blush as she looked him up and down. He grinned and said, "Like what you see, Lady Pearce?"

"Oh, Sir Harry, it's a good thing I don't work for you any longer," she teased back. "That might be classified as sexual harassment."

"Oh, I'll show you sexual harassment –"

She rolled her eyes and headed toward the bathroom, secretly pleased that he was following behind her closely. When she slipped out of her robe and turned around, he was right there, crushing his lips to hers. "God, Harry, let me go to the loo at least," she laughed. "We've got the rest of our lives to love each other – but Jamie's waiting on us and he's three years old and not very patient."

He pouted, and it made her realize just how much Jamie looked like him. "But –"

"Shower, now," Ruth said in her best 'mummy says' voice. "Later, we can have a nap of the adult variety when the young master takes his."

Of course, the moment they both got in the shower, it was no holds barred – and the sex was fast and frightfully intense. "Good god," Ruth panted when it was all over. "Harry –"

"I need you," he replied, equally breathless. "Like air in my lungs, Ruth –"

She kissed him gently and murmured, "Then we should get up earlier."

He grinned at her and helped her wash up.

By the time she got out to the breakfast table, Jamie was already eating. "Miss Erin got me breakfast," he announced. "Acause you and daddy took a very long time."

Ruth looked at Erin and felt a blush rising into her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said.

"I ordered up a pot of coffee and some hot tea," Erin said. "And your daughters will be here in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Ruth said.

Harry came out of the bedroom, looking a bit disheveled without his tie. "Ruth, do you remember where I left my tie?" he asked. "Good morning, Ms. Watts – I trust that our Jamie hasn't been too troublesome?"

"He's a very well-behaved boy, sir," Erin said.

"Can you scare up a pot of coffee and a pot of tea?" Harry asked. "And make sure my children are joining us for breakfast –"

"Already done," Erin said.

Harry smiled wanly. "You'd best stop anticipating my every move," he said. "We're going out shopping later; the team will want to be inconspicuous. We'll start at Macy's, then Barney's, and lunch inbetween at Perbacco – the reservation was made in advance, under the Home Secretary's name. Dinner will be here at the hotel, and Ruth and I will be going out for drinks and dessert afterward."

"Uh, no, Harry, I'll be staying in and spending time with my children," Ruth said firmly.

He paused and looked at Erin. "The schedule is tentative," he finally said.

The door to the suite opened and Rose called, "Is everyone up? We're ready to go when you are – after breakfast, of course."

The girls breezed in, dressed for the day and looking very happy. Rose stopped by Jamie at the table and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled up at her and said, "Hi, Rosie."

"Good morning, Jamie," she replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh-huh," he said. "I gots eggs and soldiers, Rosie."

"So you do," Rose said with a smile. "Eat up so you can get big and strong like dad, okay?" She walked up to Ruth and gave her a big hug. "Hi, mum," she murmured.

"Hello, love," Ruth said softly.

Daisy held back, avoiding Jamie and circling straight around Ruth to her father. "Dad, can I skip shopping and go to the MoMA instead?" she asked.

"Can we go to the museum tomorrow?" Harry asked with a sigh.

"I want to go alone," she protested.

Harry relented. "All right," he said. "But your officers go with you."

Daisy rolled her eyes. "I know," she muttered. She ignored her mother completely and got herself a cup of tea, then left the room.

Harry just stood there, not believing really that Daisy was being so rude. "Ruth, I'm sorry –"

"No, it's okay," Ruth assured him, even though her heart was aching. "She's obviously upset. I don't want to make it worse."

"You're her mother –"

Rose spoke up quietly. "She's feeling a little out of sorts – she just wants to go to the museum and collect her thoughts, dad."

Harry made a noise of disapproval, then grunted. "You don't want to escape," he pointed out.

"Well, no, but then again, you're the one with a black card," Rose reminded him, "and I'm dying for some new things."

Harry rolled his eyes. "One of these days, Rose…"

Jamie said, "We're getting books, right?"

"Of course we are, love," Ruth promised softly. "We'll go get new books, too, but you need new shoes and new pants."

"Can I have clothes like daddy?" Jamie asked.

Rose smiled. "I'm sure we can find something like dad's suit for you, Jamie – and mum will think you're the most handsome man in all the world."

Jamie grinned at her. "Okay," he chirped, going back to his food.

Harry said, "We should probably not waste time with breakfast and just get going –"

"Nowhere will be open yet," Ruth reasoned. "Let's order up some food and eat."

* * *

><p>When they returned from shopping, Daisy was asleep on the sofa in the Presidential suite. Jamie ran over to her and said, "Daisy, Daisy, I got new books. Will you read to me?"<p>

Daisy blinked at him and yawned. "Okay," she agreed.

He climbed up onto the sofa with her and held up the little bag of books he'd been carrying. Harry Bear was sticking up out the top of the bag, and Daisy said, "Why do you love this bear so much?"

"Acause he's there when daddy isn't," Jamie replied. He got a book out of the bag and said, "This one, please, Daisy."

Ruth held back, watching her daughter read to her younger brother, and eventually, she walked away. Harry was waiting for her in the master bedroom, surrounded by bags. "My wallet may never recover," he teased her.

"I'll just have to go back to work, then," she murmured, giving him a kiss. "Of course, I didn't need all of this –"

"No, but you wanted it, and that's enough," he said with a sheepish smile.

"You can't just go buying me everything I want," she scolded.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Why not, indeed. He'd spoiled them all positively rotten. Jamie had his new clothes and shoes and books besides. Ruth had new, nice clothes – and a couple of pieces of new lingerie. Rose had gotten new boots a necklace, and an armload of books. Harry had spotted a tie he had to have. It had been a good shopping excursion. And lunch had been fabulous in the middle of it all.

"Because we'll start to expect it," she said. "And complacency breeds contempt –"

He sighed. "I tend to overdo things now," Harry admitted. "Since the girls were in danger, I mean. God. I can't – Ruth – "

He was struggling to stay above water, she could tell. "Harry, it's okay," she whispered, pulling him into her arms. "It is. We're all here, we're all okay. You can spoil us any time you want, my love –"

"They were almost killed because of me –"

"Harry, look at me," Ruth said sharply, directing his chin so he would face her head on. "You cannot blame yourself anymore for what happened. You will make yourself sick. They are here, they are safe, and they are physically – if not mentally – well." She kissed him very gently and whispered, "You did what you said you would; you were the father to them that you never could be to Catherine and Graham."

He pulled out of her arms and pushed the door shut, throwing the lock with a click. "I'm DG because the former DG was colluding with Nicholas Blake and an organization called Nightingale. They had every intention of taking over the world." Harry looked at her and said, "Mani was working with Blake, attempting to secure the uranium in order to create a dirty bomb to take out most of London. I would not have let that happen, even at the cost of the lives of our children, Ruth. I almost allowed them to be killed to protect millions – and I feel like the worst father in the world because of it." He exhaled weakly and said, "They could have killed me, and it would've been preferable to this living hell. Neither of them should trust me anymore. You shouldn't trust me."

"Well, sorry," Ruth said, "because I do. Implicitly."

The tension in his shoulders grew worse. "Nightingale orchestrated that last major India/Pakistan conflict, and blew up the hotel where the peace talks were being held," he said quietly. "Andrew Lawrence, the Home Secretary, died." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Ros and Lucas got the Pakistani representative out, but couldn't reach Lawrence in time. Both sustained injuries; Ros has only now been cleared to come back to work. She blames herself; I blame myself." He ran his hand over his face. "I visited Nicholas and he confessed, more or less. I was wearing a wire. Grantham was forced to resign immediately and I was thrown to the wolves on the seventh floor."

She reached up and rubbed his back. "I'm sorry," Ruth said softly. "I knew it had to have been bad, but I wasn't prepared for this level of… bad."

"You should run away from me," he said. "Take the children; get a divorce, run away as fast as you can."

"No," she said simply. "I won't."

"I can't promise that I won't have to make that decision again –"

"Then you make it," she said, her rebuke sharp. "But don't you dare sit here, worrying about things that may never come to pass. Okay? We're here. We're safe for now. Just… stop blaming yourself."

He exhaled shakily and said, "I can't stop."

She frowned. "I'm sorry, Harry." She rubbed his shoulder one more time, then left him to his broken thoughts.

END PART SIX


	7. Chapter 7

Seven:  
>Snapshots of a Life<p>

Daisy was holding a sleeping Jamie, still reading to him softly, when Ruth came back into the living room. Daisy glanced up at her and smiled a little, then whispered, "He just went to sleep, mum."

"It's been a long day for him," Ruth commented softly. "Want me to take him to bed?"

"At least let me finish his story," Daisy teased.

Ruth wasn't about to let her daughter's good mood go to waste, and she nodded her assent, falling into one of the chairs tiredly and closing her eyes. It was good to see Daisy happy, as she hadn't been since Jamie had been sprung into her life only the day before. Sending her off to the MoMA had been a good idea, it seemed.

Once Daisy closed the book, Ruth opened her eyes and got up to carry Jamie off to his room for a short nap before dinner. She came back and saw Daisy fiddling with a sketchbook and drawing pencils. She looked over Daisy's shoulder and smiled. "Oh, that's quite good," Ruth commented.

"It's from memory," Daisy replied softly. "It's not that good; I don't remember my old dad much."

"No, it's very good," Ruth said, sitting down beside her. "Can I see -?"

Daisy reluctantly handed over her sketchbook and said, "I love art. Uncle Malcolm says if Rose and I are quite good for our minders, he'll think about talking to daddy about taking me to the Louvre in Paris for my birthday so I can see the Mona Lisa." She blushed a little. "Daddy will say no, though – it's too dangerous."

"You let me handle your father," Ruth said. "I think it's a lovely idea – and you're quite an artist, Daisy."

Daisy smiled. "These aren't the good ones," she said. "These are practice. I won an award last term cross-England for a drawing of Aunt Ros at the cemetery." She fell silent, the smile vanishing from her face. "She was so sad and so beautiful."

Ruth flipped through the sketchbook and said, "I'm very proud of you, Daisy –"

"You shouldn't be," Daisy said. "I'm not good at school like Rose. She's going to Oxford; I'm going to be lucky to get through Sixth Form."

"Not everyone is meant for school," Ruth said gently. "I'd love to be able to change your mind, but… I mean, even when you were younger, I didn't know you were this good at drawing."

"I wasn't," Daisy said quietly. "But I learned because I wanted to remember you, mum. And we didn't have a lot of pictures of you. Daddy said it was dangerous."

"Your father does love that word," Ruth said with a sigh. "So you drew pictures of me?"

Daisy nodded, a little sheepishly. "He said you were okay, that you just had to leave us for a while. That everyone else would say bad things about you, but we weren't to listen because they weren't true at all. And you loved us." She looked up at Ruth and said, "You love us, don't you?" She looked so small, so lost, and Ruth felt heartbroken that she'd hurt her girls.

"I do," Ruth murmured, pulling Daisy close. "I never stopped worrying about you, I never stopped loving you."

"Even though you have Jamie?" Daisy asked a bit suspiciously.

Ruth paused for a long second, and Daisy took it the wrong way entirely, trying to pull away. "No, stop," Ruth said, holding her still. "I love all three of you for so many reasons. Rose because she's just like me, and I'm scared that she'll be too much like me. You because you were so wanted, so desired, so beautiful… and Jamie because he is even though he had every reason not to be." She pushed Daisy's hair back out of her face and smiled. "Do you want to hear a story?"

Daisy hesitated. "Okay," she said warily.

"Once upon a time, your mum was married to a stock trader who was gay," Ruth began. "And I was lonely and tired and I just wanted someone to tell me it was all right to feel those things, because my husband didn't think it was. He thought I should be happy because I had a good job and Rosie and a nice house and a flash car… and I wasn't. Well, one day, I went out after work with some friends and met a chap in the pub. He was nice enough, but not handsome in a way like, say, Brad Pitt or George Clooney –"

"Colin Firth, mum," Daisy said, rolling her eyes. "He's the sexiest Mr. Darcy."

"All right, well… I'm talking about your dad," Ruth said gravely, "so maybe you don't want to go there."

"Daddy is no Mr. Darcy," Daisy scoffed.

"No, he isn't," Ruth agreed, "but he swept me off my feet and made me very happy for two days. I didn't know it at the time, but we made you… and every time I see your beautiful face, it reminds me of how much I love Harry Pearce. And however much I love him, it pales in comparison to how much I love you." She reached over and gently stroked Daisy's cheek. "I'm sorry you thought – that you could ever think – that I didn't love you, Margaret."

"I'm jealous of a three year old," Daisy admitted very quietly. "Because he's had you and I haven't."

"Well, you have me now," Ruth said. "And Jamie thinks the world of you and Rose already." She paused. "Did you enjoy the museum?"

Daisy nodded. "I didn't think anyone would want to go with me," she said quietly. "Daddy said he wanted to, but he lies about things like that because he doesn't want to say how bored he is."

Ruth smiled and said, "That's very true."

Daisy said, "He tries, you know. He has since you left." There was a slight hint of recrimination in her tone, but it vanished. "But Rosie takes good care of me. She didn't want to go to school and leave me all alone. That's why she put off Oxford another year. She was scared to leave me alone." She looked down at her hand in her lap, fidgeting and playing with the material of her skirt. Ruth just watched her. "When they took us," she said very quietly, "and they shot Ginny… in front of us… Rosie got between them and me and said they would have to shoot her first. She's very brave, mummy. I'm not."

"You are," Ruth said very softly. "Telling me this is incredibly brave. Wanting to leave the house in the morning is incredibly brave." She kissed Daisy's forehead and whispered, "You, Margaret Eloise Pearce, never have to worry about me understanding how brave you are." Ruth looked up to see Rose watching them from the far side of the room, listening quietly. "Rosie, come here," she murmured. "Come here and sit with us a bit."

Rose came over at sat down on Ruth's other side. She snuggled up and laid her head on her mother's shoulder. "I knew you'd be very cross if something happened to Daisy," she said quietly, "so I protected her best I could."

"I would be cross if anything happened to either of you," Ruth said firmly.

They stayed like that, quietly, for a long time.

* * *

><p>They were in the middle of dinner when a courier delivered a package with Jamie's brand new passport and birth certificate. Ruth looked them over and nodded her satisfaction. Harry glanced over them and smiled a little, seeing 'James Henry Pearce' on the documents. It was a shout-out to things that should have been, might have been, were once upon a time…<p>

Jamie said, "Mummy, when are we going to London?"

"Soon," Ruth said.

"Very soon," Harry replied. "Is tomorrow too soon?"

"Tomorrow?" Jamie echoed. "That's really soon."

"Yes, it is," Ruth agreed.

Harry said, "I'm needed back at Whitehall. Our flight leaves at 5am."

Daisy sighed. "Daddy – you said we could see a show –"

"We can see a show in London," Harry replied. "Broadway and the West End aren't mutually exclusive, you know."

Rose said, "I have been meaning to ask if you can get us tickets to _Anthony and Cleopatra_, dad."

Daisy made a face. "Ugh," she muttered.

Jamie watched them all with tired fascination. "Daddy," he spoke up, "is there a bed for me at your house, acause mommy said you didn't know about me."

"There is," Harry said. "There was a nice lady named Ginny who used to live in that room, but we'll make it all yours, Jamie."

Jamie paused and then nodded. "Okay. I never had my own bed afore. Mummy and me share."

"No more sharing," Harry said. "You'll have your own room and your own bed."

Jamie made a little face, then said, "Does that mean mummy doesn't love me anymore?"

"Goodness, no!" Ruth exclaimed in alarm. "It just means that mummy and daddy will be sharing a bedroom."

"Why is it okay for you and daddy to share, but not me?" Jamie asked, confused.

"Because mum and dad love each other," Rose spoke up.

"I love them," Jamie said.

"Because mummy and daddy want to be alone together," Daisy said.

Jamie's eyes got wider. "Is that how we get babies? I want a baby sister!"

Harry spluttered, nearly spitting his wine across the table. Ruth immediately reached up to pat his back, and he gasped for breath, somewhere between laughing, crying, and choking to death. "Jamie, I don't think that's going to happen," he coughed out.

"Why not?" Jamie asked, pouting.

"Because mummy's too old now," Ruth said gently. "And because you're my baby, love."

"But I'm not a baby anymore."

"You'll always be her baby," Rose said, "just like Daisy and I are her babies."

Jamie sighed. "Okay," he said doubtfully. "But you're big girls."

"We are," Daisy agreed, "but we need a little brother to take care of us."

He contemplated that for a moment, then nodded. "I can do that, Daisy," he said proudly.

Daisy leaned over and ruffled his hair. "You're cute," she replied.

Jamie beamed at her and said, "We're gonna go to London tomorrow!"

"Yes, we are," she agreed. "We're going to go home – have you ever had pets, Jamie?" The little boy shook his head. "Oh, goodness! You're going to have so much fun, then – we have three cats and a puppy dog."

"Three cats?" Ruth spoke up.

"Fidget, Lily, and Darcy," Harry said. "Darcy was on our doorstep last winter and the girls brought her inside and the rest is history."

"I'm scared of dogs," Jamie announced.

"Scarlett won't hurt you," Rose interjected. "She's very small and she loves everybody."

"He's not used to dogs," Ruth said softly. "They can be scary."

Jamie nodded and made an uncomfortable noise. "Daddy, why do you have a doggy?" he asked.

"Because she was a gift to mummy and me from Rose's grandmother," Harry said gently. "And Scarlett is sweet and loves everyone she meets."

"Mummy, will you be there?" Jamie asked, his voice anxious.

"Of course, sweetheart," Ruth said, reaching over and rubbing his back comfortingly. "You don't have to be scared when I'm there."

"If London is very far away, how will we get there?" Jamie asked.

"By airplane," Ruth replied – which incited another round of panic at her son's behest. It was going to be a long trip.

* * *

><p>Oh band of weary travelers…<p>

Ruth carried Jamie off the plane as he slept. Poor soul was absolutely worn out. He'd been nervous on the plane until he'd fallen asleep on Harry's lap, and they hadn't had the heart to wake him. He hadn't even stirred when they'd touched down at Heathrow. He hadn't awakened when they'd gone through passport control, and he was still asleep as they went to claim their small luggage. The larger pieces were being claimed by the security officers and would be taken by van to the house after a thorough search for bugs and trackers.

The little family stepped through the arrival gate, not really expecting anyone to be there to greet them. Daisy squealed with delight and raced over to Malcolm, throwing her arms around him and giving him a big kiss. "Uncle Malcolm, you came to meet us!" she cried. "Daddy let me go to the MoMA, and it was so wonderful!"

Malcolm smiled and hugged her back tightly. "Oh, Daisy, I've missed you and Rose," he said.

"How is your mum?" Rose asked as she stepped away from her parents to join her sister in hugging Malcolm.

"She… passed," Malcolm said softly. "But she's not ill anymore, and for that, I am grateful."

Harry stepped forward and said, "Malcolm, I'm so sorry –"

"No, don't be," Malcolm said with a smile. "She's in a much better place now. How was New York?"

Harry gestured over his shoulder at Ruth and Jamie and smiled. "I found my wandering heroine," he said, "and have brought her home. However, there's a bit of a snag…"

"A snag?" Ruth said. "You'd better take that back."

Malcolm's mouth formed a shocked 'o' when he saw the little boy stirring awake in her arms. "Oh my," he finally said.

Jamie whined and mumbled, "Mummy, I gotta go to the loo."

Harry took him from her arms and said, "Come, Jamie, let's go."

Malcolm watched them leave, then said, "Ruth – it's good to see you again, but I never guessed that you – is he Harry's?"

"Why does everyone automatically think I'm some kind of a cheap slut?" Ruth asked, a bit miffed. "Yes, Jamie is Harry's. We'd just done an in vitro implantation when I was forced to leave."

"Well, I'm pleased," Malcolm said. "Harry seems happy –"

"Are you coming back to stay, Uncle Malcolm?" Daisy interrupted. "As you've been taking care of us and all… like Ginny did."

Malcolm said, "Yes, Daisy, I moved my things in a few days ago." He looked over at Ruth and said, "I'm the nanny. Can you believe that? I left the Service to become a live-in domestic."

Ruth smiled. "The girls love you," she said. "So that's good, then."

Harry and Jamie came back from the loo, and Jamie rushed up to take his mother's hand. "Mummy, are we in London now?" he asked.

"We are," Ruth said, squeezing his hand. "Jamie, I want you to meet someone – this is your Uncle Malcolm. He's like a brother to daddy and me."

Jamie eyed him suspiciously, then said, "Hello, Mr. Malcolm."

Malcolm smiled. "You know, I have a train set that needs putting together – your dad said I could put it in the attic. Would you like to help, Jamie?"

Jamie looked at Ruth. "Can I, mummy?"

"You can," she said with a smile.

"Okay," Jamie said to Malcolm. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes. "I'm sleepy."

"Then we'd better get you home," Harry said, "so you can sleep till the sun comes up."

"Okay," Jamie said as if he hadn't just slept for hours.

They headed to the waiting cars; Harry wasn't at all embarrassed that he'd called in a favor and gotten someone to install a child's safety seat just the right size for Jamie for their trip home. And Ruth was incredibly grateful that he had.

Jamie fell asleep in the car as Ruth chatted with Malcolm about her life in New York as he drove her and Jamie. Harry was driving the girls in the other car, and she felt a touch irritated that he'd decided on this arrangement of passengers without consulting her. But she was glad to just talk to Malcolm; he'd always been a good, dear friend. If she hadn't been so desperately head over heels in love with Harry, she might have gone after a sweet soul like Malcolm instead.

"So, Jamie?"

"James Henry Pearce," Ruth said with a small smile. "If you want to take care of him, you'll find that more likely, he'll be taking care of you. He's very brilliant, Malcolm, and cunning when he wants something."

"The best of both his parents," Malcolm said with a small smile. "You've done well for him."

"I've tried," Ruth said honestly. "But there are times I know I've failed badly because he needed Harry and I couldn't be a father and a mother all at once." She sighed and looked into the back seat, at Jamie's sleeping face. "That's going to change now, though, isn't it?"

"I should hope so," Malcolm said. "Are you going to go back to work?"

She shrugged and said, "I don't know."

"There are plenty of jobs going spare for teachers," Malcolm said with a jovial smile. "And even more for good spooks."

"I can't go back to Five," Ruth said sharply. "That's not who I am anymore."

"You can take the spook out of Thames House, but you can't take Thames House out of the spook," Malcolm said softly. "Even I couldn't find you, Ruth. Harry was livid with me."

Ruth swallowed hard. "I went to ground. I had Jamie to protect, you see. It was never about me and Harry once I knew I was pregnant. It was always about Jamie." She sighed and said. "Harry told me what happened when the girls were taken –"

Malcolm clenched his jaw and nodded. "Yes. I went after them, and only managed to get there in time to talk down the shooter. He was going to do it, was looking right at Rose and the safety was off." His voice was low and full of pain. "I'm still not sure how I managed to do it, Ruth."

"They're very lucky to have you, Malcolm," she murmured. "And I don't mind you being the hired domestic help," she teased.

"I really do have a train set that needs putting together," Malcolm said.

"I'm sure you do," Ruth said with a smile.

END PART SEVEN


	8. Chapter 8

Eight:  
>No Such Thing as Normal<p>

Harry went to work, Daisy went to school, Malcolm went to the market, and Ruth made friends with the cats again. Scarlett was sweet as ever, licking her eagerly and loving on her with dog-like devotion, but the cats… the cats were pissy because she'd left them.

Jamie and Rose went out into the garden to play together, and she watched them from the window with a smile on her lips as they ran around amongst the snowflakes that fluttered down around them. After a while, Rose brought Jamie inside and said, "Let's get the good chocolate and make hot chocolate the way mum likes it, okay?"

"Yes," Jamie agreed breathlessly, happily, a smile on his face. "It's cold outside, mummy."

"Yes, it is," Ruth agreed with a small smile. "Did you and Rose have fun?"

"Uh-huh," he said, crawling up onto one of the kitchen chairs that was too high off the ground for him. He grunted and had to work hard at it, and by the time he was seated, his little feet were swinging wildly off the ground. Scarlett came trotting into the room for her food and Jamie stiffened. "Mummy, the doggy is there," he said in a scared voice.

"Scarlett won't hurt you," Ruth assured him gently.

Scarlett proved the point by running over to Ruth and licking her hand before heading off to her bowl for food and water.

Fidget stalked through the kitchen and disappeared into the laundry room with Lily on his heels. Rose laughed and said, "Darcy must be stalking them again. She's adorable but such an evil little brat."

And on cue, Darcy skittered into the kitchen, careening around the adult cats before looking bewildered when they buggered off and left her alone. She mewled, then went to wind her way around Rose's feet.

Rose poured three cups of hot chocolate and used the cooking scissors to cut pieces of French marshmallow off into them. It was still a tradition, still them, after all this time. She was passing it on, keeping it alive, and it made Ruth want to cry.

Rose set a mug down in front of Jamie. "Careful," she warned. "It's really hot. You don't want to burn your mouth."

Jamie, in all of his innocence, blew on it, watching the marshmallow dance around his cup with a giggle. Ruth loved it when he laughed, when he smiled, because he was just like Harry then.

They were just about to settle in with their treat when the doorbell rang. Rose motioned for Ruth to stay put. "I've got it, mum," she said. "Not many – if any – people know you're back."

When she came back, she was trailing Ros in her wake. Ruth blinked a couple of times, then smiled. Ros's hair was shorter than it had been, and she was just as rail-thin as ever, but there were a few changes that were visible to the naked eye.

"Ruth," Ros said by way of greeting, slightly frosty, but not entirely icy.

"Ros," Ruth replied in kind.

Jamie looked up at Ros and said, "Mummy, who's that?"

"This," Ruth said, "is Ros – she worked with mummy and daddy before you were born."

"I see you did well for yourself," Ros commented wryly, "once away from us."

Ruth nodded and reached over to wipe some foamy chocolate off of Jamie's cheek. "Ros, this is Jamie – the love of my life."

Ros smiled a bit, wonderously, and said, "Ruth, I need to speak with you. Can Rose watch him so we might take a walk?"

"Of course, Aunt Ros," Rose said. "Take all the time you need – Uncle Malcolm should be back from the market soon. We're having shepherd's pie tonight if you want to come for dinner."

Ruth leaned down and kissed the top of Jamie's head. "Be good for Rose," she said softly. "Ask her to read you a story when you're done with your chocolate, love."

"Okay, mummy," Jamie agreed.

Ruth headed out to the entryway where the coats were all up on their hooks. She said, "I still have your coat, Ros."

"Throw it away," Ros said sagely. "I've replaced it twice over now."

Disposable, transitory, the definition of their existence as spooks. It was something Ruth had never intended for her life to become, but by requesting her secondment from GCHQ, it had become the very embodiment of her life. She got her coat on and tugged on her gloves as well. If it was still flurrying, it would be chilly.

They walked to the park just a few minutes away, and settled in on a bench. Ros looked over at her and said, "I didn't know you and Harry had been trying for a baby."

"We kept it quiet," Ruth said with a sigh, "because we kept being disappointed. I had an implantation just a couple of days before Maudsley went down." She glanced over at Ros and said, "But that's not why we're here, is it?"

"I need you to consider coming back to Section D," Ros said.

"No," Ruth replied. "My place is with my children right now –"

Ros nodded and said, "Yes. I know. Believe me, I understand that better than you might think." She pulled a necklace from around her neck and flicked open the locket, handing it over. "Her name is Emma. Emma Lawrence." A picture of a smiling, toothless baby with a big white bow and non-existent (or rather just platinum blonde?) hair greeted Ruth's gaze. "If I didn't think it was worth it, I wouldn't have come back at all. After all… Section D managed to get her father killed. I spent the first two months in TRING, but I'm stronger than anyone thinks."

"You have to be, to survive," Ruth said softly. "Did you love him?"

"I didn't just sleep with him," Ros said quietly, and Ruth noticed she was twisting a ring around her left ring finger – a wedding band. "Everyone asks that. Yes, I was originally a honey trap, but there was a moment when I knew he wasn't a part of what we thought he was, and in that moment, I let myself fall in love with him." It was intensely personal, intensely private, but Ruth knew Ros was opening up to her because she understood; no matter what else had happened between them, Ruth knew sacrifice and pain. "And he was in love with me. It was fast, it was intense, it was a bit of a whirlwind, to be honest. But I wouldn't take it back – aside from the bit where we only had seven months together."

Ruth blanched a little. "Oh god, Ros – I'm so sorry –"

Ros shook her head. "No one needs to be sorry." She took a deep breath and said, "As Section Chief, I made the decision to get the Pakistani President out of the hotel first. I blame Section D because… I can't keep blaming myself." She glanced over at Ruth and smiled, a hint of bitterness twitching at her lips. "I have Emma to look after, now, you know."

"There's no one to blame aside from the people who were in Nightingale," Ruth said.

Ros sighed. "I… I wish things were different. That I wasn't alone in this." She looked over at Ruth and said, "He was looking forward to having a family together, so much. His mum is incredibly good about the fact that I'm still here and he's not, but I know she's silently judging me for not trying harder to get him out of that hotel."

"You tried as hard as you could," Ruth said softly. "He knew what you all were up against –"

"He made me go," Ros whispered. "I wasn't going to leave him. But he forced me to go."

Ruth wanted to reach over and comfort Ros, but she knew it wouldn't be taken well. "You have no idea how difficult it was for me to leave Harry that morning," she said softly. "Like a piece of me would be forever missing."

"Yes," Ros said quietly. "Like that. Exactly like that." She glanced over at Ruth. "Harry doesn't know I'm here," she admitted. "I'm sure he'd be very pleased if you stayed at home and played mummy. But I'm here. And I'm asking you to come back to Section D."

"So much has changed –"

"Yes," Ros agreed. "People come and go, but Section D is forever."

"Adam, Zaf, Jo –"

Ros flinched. "Yes," she said with a frown.

Ruth said, "You can't guarantee that I would come home every day."

"You can't guarantee that something dreadful won't happen when you go to Tesco," Ros pointed out. "Usually it involves a wallet and some ghastly kid's food or another. Or nappies. Bloody nappies. I'll be so glad when Emma's potty trained."

Ruth said, "Yes, but then she'll be running around and always asking questions and –"

Ros shot back acerbically, "Well, you seem to manage."

Ruth rolled her eyes heavenward, and sighed. "I'll think about coming back," she said. "But not until Jamie is comfortable here."

"I'm not asking you because we're friends… or because we share a history," Ros stipulated. "I'm asking because you're Ruth Evershed and you were the best analyst Section D ever employed. I'm making a tactical decision."

There was a long pause, and Ruth finally broke it with a quiet, "Thank you for that." She reached over and held Ros's hand for just a fleeting moment, then pulled away. "I wish I could have known the man that melted your heart."

Ros smiled sadly. "He would've fallen for you instead of me," she joked wanly.

"And Harry would have put him firmly into his place," Ruth replied. "Come on – I'll make you a coffee to warm you up."

"I should get back to the Grid," Ros said. "Dragons to slay and all that –"

"The dragons will wait," Ruth said. "They always do."

END PART EIGHT


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So, my brother still has not been found officially. Life continues to be difficult. Thus, this chapter is long and rambling and might not make much sense. And I kind of don't care anymore because at least it flows.

* * *

><p>Nine:<br>Decisions

Harry was late coming home, as usual. Nine became ten, became eleven, and she wondered briefly if he would come home at all – or if he'd stay in his office, sleep on the sofa. She took to the computer to see if she could find out what was keeping him, but aside from hacking into the MI-5 mainframe, there would be no way for her to figure it out. And if she did that, she would be committing herself to a lifetime sentence of being their best friend.

Despite two weeks, she still hadn't come to a decision about rejoining her compatriots in arms. Ruth just wasn't brave enough to fully commit herself to a life like that again. She'd had it all, once. Now she might just be content to have none of it.

But there was a little voice in her head that reminded her that she'd thrived on the danger, the quiet complexity of her life in Five –

She was just about to give up on him when the front door opened and Scarlett went running, woofing quietly at Harry as he came in. "Down, girl," he said softly but gruffly. "Don't wake up the whole house."

She met him in the hallway, surprising him. The tension in his shoulders was incredible, and she gently stroked his shoulders with deft, nimble fingertips. "Long day," she commented very softly. "Is everything all right?"

"It is now," he sighed, leaning into her touch. "I'm taking tomorrow off, barring anymore national emergencies."

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and murmured, "Did you lose anyone today?"

He stiffened a little, then said, "Four CO19, three of Five's."

She flinched. "And the cell?"

"Neutralized."

"Good," she said very quietly. She didn't know how to phrase it, but she finally said, "Anyone I know?"

"No." The word was simple, curt, effective, and she was silent again.

He turned and wrapped his arms around her, breathing in deeply. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I forget sometimes that you're really here; that going to New York and getting you and Jamie wasn't just some dream I'll wake up from in the morning. It's days like today that I needed you most when you weren't here. And now you are, and I don't know how to react."

"Don't apologize," she murmured.

"Everyone else asleep?" he asked.

"Rose was up watching a movie in her room," Ruth said softly, "but I think she's gone to sleep now."

He nodded and leaned into her. "I love you," Harry said very quietly. "So much."

"Harry… I'm not going anywhere," she whispered. "What happened today that has you so rattled?"

"I can't tell you," he said, frowning. "Just know that I love you and I need you."

She stood up on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss. "I need you, too," Ruth said. "Upstairs, Sir Harry – it's time to get that tie off you."

They hadn't made love since they'd gotten back – he was too busy, she was too uncomfortable. But they did hold each other at night before awkwardly parting in the early hours of the morning so he could go to work. But now, seeing how emotionally shattered he appeared, her heartstrings tugged and she wanted nothing more than to feel.

"Harry," she murmured as they climbed the stairs, "I love you." It was quiet, a soft declaration, reiteration, of their affection, of their place in the world. "And I need to tell you something."

"You're pregnant," he deadpanned.

"No," she huffed. "Not physically possible – I don't have the bits anymore. Total hysterectomy when Jamie was born," she added unnecessarily. "No, it's… Ros came to see me a ways back and asked me to come back to Five."

Harry stiffened a bit, then said, "Yes. I know. She told me."

"I told her I needed more time to make a decision," Ruth said softly. "I still haven't decided."

He took her by the hand and led her into their bedroom, shutting the door behind them. "We almost lost Ros and Lucas today," he said, voice low. "And very nearly London. All I could think about was you and the kids, here, not knowing anything. And it was selfish of me to wish you'd been directing the Section D operation, but god help me, I did wish it. Because you would have been there and safe and –"

She silenced him with a kiss and whispered, "If I go back, it changes nothing, Harry. I'm still a mum and a wife and –"

"You always were," he said, returning the kiss. "Nothing changes."

"You won't be there," she said, a little sullenly.

"No, but maybe you'll do better work when you're not trying to impress me enough to get me to take you to bed," he teased.

She punched him in the shoulder. "OI!" Ruth snapped. "As I recall, you're the one who was distracted all the time."

He smiled down at her and said, "Not all the time. When you weren't on the Grid, I wasn't distracted."

"Shenanigans," she replied, poking him in the gut. "You were thinking about me and the girls incessantly. You told me so yourself." She poked him again, and he grabbed her wrists, turning them so she was pinned to the door by his bulk, her hands stretched above her head. She moaned softly and blinked at him, waiting for his next move.

He shifted, pressing the weight of his lower body against hers. She whimpered and tried to move, but she was firmly against the door. "Harry," she breathed.

"Have you decided?" he asked.

"Yes," she murmured; not about Five, but about the more immediate, the need for him – she'd decided it was overwhelming and she should do something about it.

"And what have you decided?"

"That we'd best not fuck against the door, or one or both of us might throw our backs out."

He looked at her with bewildered amusement. "I meant about work –"

"I haven't decided about work," she admitted, looking a bit sheepish.

"So you thought you'd just get me wound up a bit?" he asked, shifting his hips again, pressing just that much harder against her. She moaned and closed her eyes, trying to keep her bearings. "Well, it worked."

"Mm, good," she breathed. "We've been woefully chaste as of late, and I know you need to unwind after today –"

He growled and nipped at her neck, making her breath come faster, a moan rising unbidden from her throat. "I'm sorry I've neglected you," he groaned.

"No, you aren't," she murmured, whimpering a little as his hardness pressed against her. "You've got a world to save – you aren't sorry you've neglected me. If you've neglected me at all, which you haven't. We've been trying to make things normal, haven't we?" She whimpered again, her voice trailing off into nothingness as she tried to concentrate on something, anything, that wasn't to do with what he was doing to her.

"Normal?" he echoed. "I don't like this version of normal. I want our normal from before – before we were trying for a baby. When we'd shag ourselves silly and have fun with the kids… this is bullshit, Ruth. I love you, for god's sake!"

"And I love you," she murmured, feeling like everything had already waved bye-bye on the road straight to hell. "But love isn't everything, is it?"

He growled again and said, "Two weeks, Ruth, and we haven't –"

"So work with me to change that," she snapped, moving her head and capturing his lips with her own, barely reaching him. "Don't shut me out, Harry."

He released her and took a step back, away from her. She felt bereft without him, where only moments before, he had been the focus of her entire part of the universe. He unknotted and yanked viciously on his tie, then started to get undressed. "I'm not shutting you out, but I'm not going to force you to do something you clearly don't want to do –"

"Whoa, hold up," Ruth said sharply. "Who said I didn't want to shag you senseless? You're being bloody unreasonable and repressed and god knows if I paraded in front of you with a sign that said 'FUCK ME NOW' on it, you'd still be initiating this ridiculous conversation!" She fumbled with the sash of her dressing gown, eventually getting the knot undone, and took it off, flinging it out of the way. Her nightshirt and knickers followed suit, and she noted with some pride that Harry had stopped dead in his tracks in a state of partial dress, his fly unzipped and his lime green trunks showing through. "So do I need the sign, Harry, or am I going to have to get myself off? Because if things are so bad between us that you don't want to fuck me, why the hell did I leave New York?"

His mouth was open and he tried several times to speak, but no words came out.

"Oh for pity's sake, it's not like you haven't seen me naked before," she scoffed. "Many times." Her brazen nakedness had her hesitate for a moment. She looked down and didn't like what she saw, but she'd not been happy with her body in a very long time, so what did it matter? She inhaled sharply, realizing in a flash that he wasn't happy with her body, either – that's why he hadn't pushed her back into bed. That's why he was so distant. Oh god, and here she was, trying to seduce him when he was disgusted by her –

Ruth grabbed her dressing gown and flew into the en suite before she made an even bigger fool of herself, in tears of stunned anguish. He didn't want her anymore. It was like a knife straight to the heart and she leaned over the vanity in physical pain as she broke down completely.

It was over, then, their bliss. Some things were just too much to overcome.

She didn't hear him come in, didn't know he was there until his arms came around her and his voice broke through her panicked grief. "Ruth," was all Harry said.

It made it all that much worse; he would be kind to her, tell her that everything was going to be all right even though it wouldn't, it couldn't be – not if he didn't love her anymore. He probably had a gorgeous personal assistant and a tea girl who flashed him leg on a regular basis and what would he want with poor plain old Ruth with her extra baby weight and a spare 10 pounds that had gone on about since she'd come back to Britain. It was all the mash and onion gravy, if she had to be honest. And the cottage pie. God love cottage pie.

She stopped crying, sniffling miserably, her cheeks red, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, tears mingling with runny nose as she tried to swipe it all away with the face towel. "I'm sorry," Ruth whispered. "We need… we need to find a way to carry on for the kid's sake, don't we? Even though this is… it's over."

He was very quiet. "Did you meet someone?" Harry finally asked. "Was it some random bloke?"

Her chin quivered; of course he'd think that she'd been the one to cheat – that's just how the male mind worked, and she had done before, hadn't she? "No," she whispered. "There's been no one but you for a very long time, Harry. I just… this isn't working, is it? I'm no good for you anymore. You've lost weight, got fitter – I've put it on and gotten rounder. You don't even look at me; you look through me. And the look on your face when I just got my kit off – god, Harry, you're breaking my heart and you don't even know it, do you?" She bit her lip and looked away. "What's her name?" she whispered.

"What?"

"The woman. What's her name?"

"There is no woman," he denied. "No woman but you." He sighed and nuzzled her neck, and she wished she knew if he was telling the truth or just… blowing smoke. "Ruth, how could you think it?"

"You don't want me," she said simply.

"I'd think our little door display proves your hypothesis to the direct contrary," he whispered. "I could barely keep my cool –"

"Why did you, then? Why must you be so in control?" Ruth asked.

"Because loving you is dangerous," Harry snapped. "For you; for me. It's the most terrifying, the most helpless, thing I've ever done in my life. It's reckless to be up to your neck in secrets and lies and to love someone so deeply that you'd give anything to see them safe. Do you understand?" His face was flushed, his eyes practically glowing with fire, desire, a need that she wasn't sure she could ever quench. "I can't tell you the things I want to tell you; I need you, Ruth."

It hit her like a lightning bolt right between the eyes; it wasn't love keeping them apart, it was the job, the everything that they couldn't give rise to a voice. He was giving her an ultimatum without voicing it, and she felt her heart shudder to a halt before it began beating again. "Harry," she said very quietly, "I'm calling Ros tomorrow to tell her I want to come back."

In some deep, sick way, the job was part of them; it was as much a part of them as any piece of their love. It was what kept them balanced, it was danger and intrigue, and just something that they couldn't give up without a fight. She had to admit: she liked it. And she liked the way he got powerful, dark, masculine in a way that couldn't be described when the danger got to him.

Five was like a drug.

And she was going to take another hit, if it meant not losing him.

"Don't say that if you don't mean it," Harry said quietly.

"I mean it," she said. "But just as a desk spook – none of that field work for me, Harry. I've got to keep myself out of the firing line now we've got Jamie."

"I'll make sure Ros knows it's off limits," Harry said firmly.

"Stop being the boss for just a minute and just… stop," she said quietly. "Your PA?"

"Hermione, yes," he said. "What about her?"

"She's what, twenty-something, all legs and tits?"

He looked confused. "No, she's pushing sixty," he said, "and what do I care about her legs or her tits?"

Ruth exhaled quickly. "And your tea girl?"

"Ianto?" Harry replied. "Clearly not a girl."

She almost laughed in relief. "Oh my god, you must think me a barmy –"

"No," Harry said softly. "I'm just confused as to why you think my go-fer man is a girl and my secretary is out to seduce me. When, clearly, none of the above is happening. I'd be glad to introduce you to Ianto, though – he's always looking for a new lady to go shopping with. He loves shopping with Rose."

Her nervous joviality vanished in an instant. "How old is this Ianto?" she asked.

"Ruth, relax – he's gay," Harry assured her. "He's very happily in a relationship with a young man outside the Service. He and Rose were in school together; I hired him because they're friends, that's all."

She nodded tensely. "Okay, well –" She exhaled and said, "Okay."

"Ruth…"

"I want you so much," she admitted. "So much it feels like the world will end if I lose you. And I thought I had – I convinced myself that I'd lost you because you looked like you couldn't bear the sight of me."

"I was surprised," he said. "Shocked, actually. You never just strip off and there you were, doing just that and – and I almost had a coronary."

"Look, I know I'm getting fat," Ruth said. "Comes with snacking on Jamie's leftovers. I'll slim down once I get back to work and start forgetting meals again."

"Ruth, listen to me – I don't care," Harry said firmly. "You're lovely, just as you are – extra padding or not. Though, tell the truth, I love having a bit more of you to hold onto." His eyes were smiling and so were his lips. "I love that your breasts fit better in my hands now, and that your bum is delectable – and if I could get away with telling you not to diet those pounds away, I would. But I have a feeling you might kill me in my sleep for that."

She contemplated his words for a moment, the sincerity behind them, how much he loved her being implied implicitly, and then she turned to him, drawing him into a passionate kiss. "God, you old snake charmer," she whispered between kisses. "You're not quite right in the head, you know."

"As long as you don't leave me, I'm all right with you thinking I'm a dozy pillock," he whispered back. "Ruth, I know I'm not exactly emotionally forthright – but I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. If you ever left me again, I would go stark raving mad. Do you understand?" His hands came up to cup her face, echoing her gesture on the docks years ago. "We've been apart far too long in this life, my beautiful wife."

"You do say the most wonderful things sometimes," she murmured.

"Sometimes?"

"Yes, well, when you're blustering about who washed your white shirts in with the reds accidentally and what kind of a spy wears pink shirts…"

He at least had the decency to blush. "Yes, well, it was my own fault and I shouldn't have shouted," he said with a sigh.

She smiled and murmured, "Harry, I fancy you rotten – even in a pink shirt. You're especially sexy when you're blustering about like a madman."

"I doubt anyone else would feel the same way."

"Good thing you're not in love with anyone else," Ruth whispered.

"We don't have to have sex tonight," Harry said quickly.

"Oh, yes, we do," Ruth replied. "We've had a dreadful row, haven't we? And now we have to make up properly. And making up properly involves all of the pretty words we've been spewing… and then an earth-shattering round of fucking."

"I'm too tired for earth-shattering," Harry sighed.

"Me, too," she admitted.

"Raincheck on the earth-shattering," he said, "but we definitely can't wait to make love. I don't think I could handle another row like this."

She licked her lips and said, "So you don't find me repulsive?"

"Absolutely not, you silly bird," he said with gruff affection and loving desire in his voice. "I love every inch of you, even the super-intelligent, smugly obnoxious bits," he teased, giving her a gentle kiss. "Now get away from the mirror before it lies to you again."

"The mirror doesn't lie," she said.

"Bullshit – it was telling you that you weren't beautiful enough to be loved by me," he said in a less than gentle tone. "Which is a lie."

"Harry, stop," she murmured. "Mirrors can't lie because they're not animate objects with powers of speech, you stupid old git."

He paused, then looked relieved. "Okay, well –"

She looked down at him, still in his unzipped trousers, black socks, and lime green trunks, and laughed. "You're in a state," she teased.

"So are you," he challenged. "Did you put anything on but the dressing gown?"

She blushed a little and looked down at herself, barely contained in the robe. "Uh… no."

He smirked. "Oh really."

"Yes, really," she sighed. "And it's a size too small, so, really –"

His hands worked at the sash, hastily tied, and his lips smiled when she was revealed to him. "So we'll get you a new one," he promised. She blushed a little and fiddled with the open waistband of his pants, already seeing that – despite, or perhaps in spite, of their argument – he was sporting an erection. "You know I find you irresistible," Harry said softly. "Always have done."

She opened her arms and wrapped them around him, pulling him close so they were belly to belly, chest to chest, so close as to wish to be in one another's skin. They stood like that for a long time, how long she couldn't say, just holding on for dear life.

Then the kisses began in earnest. Soft, gentle kisses became increasingly passionate, almost violent in their yearning and want. She could feel her lips bruising and swelling as they kissed, and Ruth was thrown back to a place and a time when they'd shared so much want like this. She pulled back and whispered, "Are you trying to seduce me, James?" Her tone was mild and teasing, but her voice was husky and full of all the want she'd been fighting not to feel.

"Oh, Ruth," he said with a small smile, "we've moved so much beyond that now, haven't we?"

She laughed and said, "Get your pants off, Sir Harry. You look ridiculous."

He rolled his eyes and sighed in that long-suffering manner of his. "Yes, dear," he said softly, pulling away and divesting himself of his remaining clothes in a hurry.

She led him away from the bathroom and straight to bed. Simple, sweet touches and kisses gave way to a deeper passion, until they were sated, limbs tangled together, hearts racing. She curled into his side and he pulled the covers up over them. "It's late," she murmured.

"It's early," he contradicted. "But I'm not going in tomorrow."

"Should I?" she asked softly.

"Call Ros and tell her you want two more weeks," Harry murmured. "You've got to survive Christmas, remember? And then Jamie will go to school and Malcolm can watch him in the evenings."

Ruth sighed and closed her eyes. "Christmas," she commented. "Bloody hell, I hadn't even been thinking about it. I'm going to have to go shopping…"

He gave her a kiss and whispered, "Or I can send the teaboy out with our Rose to do it for you."

She laughed. "A teaboy named Ianto… it's all very _Torchwood_, isn't it?"

He grunted. "I can't understand you and the girls being so obsessed with _Doctor Who_ and _Torchwood_."

She kissed his chest and whispered, "My dad and I used to watch it together."

He traced small circles on her back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"It's okay," she murmured.

"We watched as a family while you were away," Harry said quietly.

"Thank you," she whispered, closing her eyes. "For everything, Harry."

END PART NINE


	10. Chapter 10

Ten:  
>Christmastide (pt. 1)<p>

"Jamie, be careful," Ruth scolded gently. "The biscuits are entirely too hot for little boys to touch."

Jamie pouted and said, "Not fair, mummy."

"You got to lick the spoon, remember?" she countered. "And as soon as they're cool enough, we can put icing and bits on them. Just like last year when you did it with Dannette and Ellen."

Jamie sighed and said, "I miss them. Can we see them for Christmas, mummy?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Ruth said softly. "They live an entire ocean away."

"Can we call them?" he asked. "I want to tell Ellen about Malcom and me putting together the train!"

Ruth was fully aware of all the pain that their leaving had caused Ellen and Dannette. They were Jamie's caretakers, and her friends… and now they wanted nothing to do with them because she'd lied to them about who she was. She couldn't blame them. "Maybe on Christmas, love," she said softly.

The door opened and Harry came through. "It's snowing like the devil out there," he shouted from the entryway. "I called Elise before I left the office and made her promise to stay put till the snow stops. And your mum called me from the train, so I had Mike pick her up at the station. They should be here any time."

Ruth hesitated, then left Jamie to go into the corridor. "Harry, did you tell her –"

"Tell her what? That you're here? No. She knows you're alive; I'm not that heartless. But I never told her we'd brought you home," he said, taking off his boots and his coat. "I thought it might make a nice Christmas gift."

"She's going to be furious," Ruth said.

"Who's going to be furious?" Malcolm asked, coming out of the sitting room. He was thumbing through a computer magazine, and it was obvious he was oblivious to what they'd been talking about.

"My mother," Ruth said.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Ah," he said. "The cookies smell delightful, by the way."

Ruth pinched the bridge of her nose. "Biscuits," she said. "I'm trying to teach Jamie –"

"Ruth, it doesn't matter what you call them," Harry said. "Jamie will learn eventually."

A cry of pain came from the kitchen, and Ruth raced back to see Jamie holding a reddened finger in the air as he sobbed his eyes out. "Oh, love, I told you they're too hot," Ruth sighed, scooping him up and carrying him to the sink where she ran the cold tap over his burnt finger. "Mummy doesn't say things she doesn't mean," she said softly. "If I tell you that it's too hot for little boys, it's too hot to touch."

"Are you mad at me?" Jamie sniffled.

"No, love," Ruth said softly. "Does your finger feel better? Do you need mummy to kiss it and make it better?" He held out his wet finger and she kissed it gently. "Now, go dry your hand off and go see daddy. You're going to need to get ready for bed soon."

Jamie sighed. "Okay," he agreed. He wiped his hand off on a tea towel and ran off, crying, "Daddy, daddy, mummy and me made cookies!"

She heard Harry scoop him up and say, "Oh you did, did you?"

"Uh-huh, but they're too hot," Jamie said.

Harry carried him into the kitchen on his shoulders, and Jamie ducked as they came through the doorway. "Are they still too hot, mummy?" Harry asked teasingly.

"Yes, they just came out of the oven about fifteen minutes ago," Ruth said.

"Oh dear," Harry said. "I guess that means we have to wait, Jamie."

"Yes, daddy," Jamie said.

"Where have your sisters got off to?" Harry asked.

"They went to Ianto and Liam's for a party," Ruth said. "They're due back no later than midnight. Or, if the snow is too bad, they're meant to call."

Harry nodded. "Okay, then –"

"Mummy, I'm hungry," Jamie said. "Can I have a snack?"

Ruth smiled and said, "Yes, love. Let me get your dad's dinner heated and I will make you a bedtime snack."

She was just about to get started on Jamie's apples and peanut butter when the doorbell rang. She stiffened and Harry said, "I'll get it. Come on, Jamie – let's go see who's at the door."

"Is it Santa?" Jamie asked eagerly.

Harry laughed. "No, I don't think that it's Father Christmas," he said. Jamie ducked as they went through the doorway again, and a minute later, she heard him say, "Elizabeth, come in – how was the trip? Hopefully the snow wasn't too awful – thank you, Mike, I'll see you day after Boxing Day."

She heard Malcolm shuffle through and he said, "Hello, Liz – let me take your suitcase up. We've got you staying in Rose's room, and she and Daisy will be on the floor in Jamie's room for the holidays."

"Jamie," Harry said, "why don't you say hello to your gran?"

Jamie said very shyly, "Hello, Gran."

Before it got too out of hand, Ruth stepped into the hallway brandishing the peanut butter covered knife. "I thought you were hungry, Jamie? Your apples are almost ready."

Jamie struggled and Harry released him, swinging him down to the floor. Once he was down, Jamie took off at breakneck speed, running for the safety of Ruth's arms. "Mummy, who's that?" he asked.

"That's my mum," Ruth said softly. "Go sit at your table, love, and I'll finish your snack." She finished up the apples very quickly and set them down in front of Jamie. She leaned down and gave him a kiss. "I'll be right back, love."

When she went into the hall, Harry was hugging her mother and assuring her that it was true, and Ruth was really there. "Mum?" Ruth said softly. "I didn't know he hadn't told you I was home." Her words were lost as Elizabeth threw her arms around her and held on for dear life. "Oh, mum, I'm sorry – "

"That little boy –"

"That's Jamie – James," Ruth said softly. "He was born while I was gone. He's the sweetest little man, and he's smart as a whip, and he loves as fiercely as his father does."

"He looks just like you did when you were little," Elizabeth said, pulling back and looking Ruth over. "My goodness, you've changed –"

"It was eating all that bloody American food," Ruth joked. "Though, pumpkin pie is absolutely delicious and we will be having some tomorrow with the turkey."

Harry said, "My love, is my dinner heated through?"

"Oh, yes," Ruth replied. "It's on the counter cooling – mum, do you want anything? Wine, a snack?"

"I'll take a brandy if you've got it," Elizabeth said. "To steady my nerves."

Harry smiled. "Of course we have brandy – Malcolm likes a bit of brandy in the evenings, don't you?"

Malcolm blushed a touch and said, "Yes –"

Ruth took Harry by the arm and marched him into the kitchen. "What on earth are you playing at? She's married."

"She's widowed and she and Malcolm get along famously," Harry said. "I'm not playing at anything."

"You're naughty," Ruth sighed. She ruffled Jamie's hair while Harry moved on to get his dinner. Elizabeth followed them into the kitchen and Ruth headed to the cupboard to get the brandy. "Apricot or blackberry, mum?"

"Apricot, I should think," Elizabeth replied. "How long have you been home?"

"Eh, going on three weeks," Ruth murmured. "Not long enough to raise a flag, but enough to get Jamie settled and forge new bonds with the girls."

"Where were you all this time?"

Ruth watched Harry eating his food, then looked over at her mother. "I can't tell you. What I will tell you is that I settled down in New York – lived in Brooklyn, taught at a posh private school on the Upper West Side. We were happy there – could have been happy there for the rest of our lives if circumstances had necessitated it. But I am glad to be back in London, with my family."

"I'm quite glad to see you," Elizabeth admitted.

Ruth fiddled with her necklace, then said, "And Jamie…"

The little boy lifted his head. "Yes, mummy?"

"Love, you've got peanut butter all over you," Ruth sighed.

Elizabeth laughed and set her brandy aside to get a wet wipe from the canister on the counter. She went over and cleaned Jamie up rapidly and without a fuss. The little boy looked at her warily, then smiled. "Hi, Gran," he said.

"Hello, Jamie," Elizabeth replied.

"I've never had a gran before," Jamie said.

"Well, we'll just have to do things together, then," Elizabeth said. "That's what grandmothers do with their grandchildren."

"Okay," Jamie agreed. "But tomorrow, acause mummy says I've got to go to bed soon or Santa Claus won't visit."

Elizabeth's mouth twitched in amusement. "Okay," she agreed.

Jamie said, "You wanna come see my room, Gran? Uncle Malcolm and me put stars on the ceiling, way up high. He says they're consellasions."

"I'd love to see your room," Elizabeth said. "Let's go get you into your pajamas and ready for bed. And you can tell me all about the things you like."

"Will you read me a story?" he asked eagerly. "I like stories the best, Gran."

"I'd love to read you a story, Jamie," she replied. "Now, let's let your dad eat his supper and your mum will be up soon to tuck you in. Won't you, Ruth?"

"Of course," Ruth replied. "I have to make sure he's tucked in nice and tight so he doesn't get up and try to catch Father Christmas."

"I can't wait till tomorrow," Jamie said. "Mummy, if I go to bed, who will decorate the cookies?"

"Your mum and I will do it," Harry said, his mouth full and muffling the words.

Ruth gave him a suffering look. "Harry, I thought you were meant to not teach him bad habits," she scolded.

"Sorry," Harry replied, not sounding very sorry at all. He swallowed and said, "Your mum, Malcolm, your Gran and I will do it, Jamie. And we can have the biscuits tomorrow."

Jamie sighed. "You won't try any without me, will you?" he asked.

"No," Harry promised.

Ruth knew he was lying, but fortunately, Jamie was still young and sweet enough to think that everyone at least tried to keep their word. Which is why she had more unmade cookie dough in the fridge – so Harry could have his cookies, too.

"Okay," Jamie chirped. "Come on, Gran."

Ruth watched them leave and turned to Harry. "Well…"

"I can't wait to decorate the sweets with you, Lady Pearce," he teased, taking another bite of pie.

"I love you dearly, but you're not quite right in the head," she sighed.

"Nothing better to do on Christmas Eve with a three year old in the house," he replied with a wink. "Next year, I'm sure you'll drag us all to Midnight Mass –"

She made a face and sighed. "Don't feel much like going back to church now," she admitted. "You can have faith outside the church."

"Who are you and what have you done with my Ruth?" Harry questioned.

"I grew up and grew inward," she said softly.

He abandoned his pie to give her a kiss. "I love you," Harry said very softly. "Now, I'm going to finish this and we're going to decorate the biscuits… and then I still have to put together Jamie's bookcase."

She smiled and returned his kiss lazily. "That's the most beautiful gift you could give him," she murmured. "A bookcase of his very own and new books."

He was about to say something else when the doorbell rang again. He frowned and got up, ignoring the rest of his dinner. Harry went out to the front door and Ruth could hear his exclamation of, "I thought I told you two to stay put until it stopped snowing!"

"Oh, Harry," Elise sighed, "we were very nearly here already. Now, where are my granddaughters?"

"At a party," Harry replied. "But you can come through to the kitchen and we'll get you something to warm you up."

Ruth hesitated, then made for the kettle to warm up some water for tea. She didn't know if Harry had told Gareth's parents about her return; hell, she didn't even know why Harry kept them as a part of his life when they were her late husband's parents. Who knew?

"So, um, I put the kettle on," Ruth said softly as Harry came back into the kitchen. "But we've got whiskey and brandy and wine if you want something else –"

Rob was the first to react to her presence. "Aren't you dead?" he quipped wryly.

"Reports of my demise have been highly exaggerated," Ruth replied with a bit of a smile.

Elise let out a whoop and swooped in to hug Ruth tightly. "Oh my goodness!" she cried. "I'm so happy to see you, Ruthie, love!"

"Happy Christmas," Ruth whispered, smiling. "Harry clearly was hellbent on surprising everyone."

"Where have you been?" Elise asked.

"Most recently, New York," Ruth said, honestly. "Before that, lots of places."

"How long have you been back?" Rob asked.

Ruth shrugged. "A few weeks. Like I said, Harry was bent on surprising everyone." She met his glare with a small smile. "Mum actually reacted pretty well to having her feet knocked out from under her. She's upstairs putting Jamie to bed."

"Jamie?" Elise echoed with interest.

"Ruth had a baby when she was overseas," Harry spoke up. "Our son, James. He's quite a good boy, you'll love him straight off."

"Oh dear!" Elise said. "We didn't know, or we'd have brought a gift for the lad –"

"Don't worry about it," Ruth said brightly. "You and Rob conspired with Father Christmas to bring him a bookshelf and some new books, okay? Pretend you know Santa Claus," she added softly. "We've done that often enough with the girls, haven't we?"

Elise and Rob laughed. It was at that moment, finally reunited with her family, Ruth really felt like she'd come home. And for Harry to keep Elise and Rob as part of his family, despite there not being blood between them, it was a beautiful thing. It was very clear he had affection toward them as if he'd taken them on as pseudo-parents, despite their age not being much more than his own. She was happy; Ruth was content. Now, if only her daughters would come home…

But the phone rang and it was Rose. "Mum, the roads are getting really bad," she said. "Daisy and I are going to stay here at Ianto's and come home when they're better clear in the morning. I don't want to crash the Rover on the way home."

All of Harry's joking aside, when the Service had forced him to upgrade the cars, he'd all but given the good old Rover to Rose to putter around in. It was something Ruth was incredibly grateful for, now, given the circumstances. "All right, love – your grandparents all got here in one piece," Ruth said with a smile. "We're going to decorate cookies."

"Take away all my fun," Rose teased. "I'll see you all in the morning. Love you."

Harry looked at Ruth questioningly once she'd hung up. "They're staying put," she said, "so we'll see them in the morning after they've partially cleared the roads."

Harry pulled a face and sighed. "She does have 4-wheel drive. She can drive through the bloody snow and have traction," he muttered.

"Yes, but if she doesn't feel confident in her ability to do it, or if she's had a couple of drinks, I'd really rather she stay put," Ruth shot back. "Now finish your dinner so we can get to work – I'd like to get some sleep before we open gifts in the morning."

Harry gave everyone a suffering look and said, "Remember how nice and easy last year's Christmas was? This year, we've got a three year old and Ruth and it's like wham-bam-complicate-everything." He reached over and squeezed her hand affectionately when she gave him a dirty look. "I love you, dear," Harry added.

"You're going to love putting that bookcase together yourself," she shot back.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes, dear."

END PART TEN


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven:  
>Christmastide (pt 2)<p>

"Your feet are like ice cubes," Harry whined as he woke up. "You've been in bed all night – how does that even happen?"

Ruth giggled and snuggled up closer, tucking her feet against him. "Silly man," she murmured. "Good morning – happy Christmas."

"Fifteen more minutes," he grumbled. "Please. After that bookcase almost collapsed on me at two in the morning, I think I deserve a few more minutes…"

She gave him a kiss and said, "Okay, but I'm going to get up and start making breakfast."

"No, stay with me," he sighed. "We're not going to do anything till the girls get here, anyway –"

"Doesn't mean Jamie won't be up," she pointed out.

"Let Malcolm handle him," Harry muttered. "They get along, don't they?"

"You just don't want me to make breakfast," she protested.

" No, I'm being selfish and want you in bed with me," he grumbled, wrapping his arms tighter around her. "Besides, the others won't be here for a while, either."

"The others?" she echoed.

"Graham, Jenny, and Siobhan, and Catherine, Kelly and Ben," Harry mumbled sleepily. "We have full family Christmases since Jane died."

"When did Jane die?"

He paused. "I didn't tell you?"

"No, I think I'd remember if you told me that your ex-wife had died and your kids had kids," Ruth said abruptly. "I'm too young to be a grandmum."

"Actually, technically speaking –"

She glared at him. "Not helping, Harry. When did Jane die?"

"About six months after you left." He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, snuggling closer to her. "Graham talked to me at the funeral, for the first time in years. He was already married to Jenny then, already had Siobhan… and I didn't know it. Siobhan is seven. And Catherine…" He sighed. "She's got two kids now, different fathers, Kelly and Ben. Kelly is three and Ben is four months old. But she's managing. Graham and Jenny help her out."

Ruth said, very softly, "You should've told me when I was out shopping – I didn't know I was meant to get things for grandkids, too –"

"Good thing you followed the list, eh?" Harry teased softly.

"I did wonder why you wanted me to buy so many things for small ones," she said, "but I assumed because of Ros and – and – I'm a grandmum?"

He smiled and gave her a kiss. "Well, now I'm awake," he replied. "We probably ought to make a move before –"

There was a frantic pounding on the door. "Daddy! Mummy!" Jamie cried. "Santa came! Santa came! Come on, you gotta come see!"

Harry groaned. "Too late," he sighed.

Ruth chuckled. "You're the one that wanted another baby," she teased, giving him a kiss as she got up. Fortunately, they'd both been too tired for any kind of funny business when they'd finished with the presents at about three, so she was in perfectly chaste woolen bed socks and flannel button-down pajamas. She opened the door and said, "Jamie, you're wriggling like a puppy dog."

"I'm excited, mummy!" Jamie cried. "There's lots of presents! Uncle Malcolm made me come get you and daddy! Gran and Elise and Rob aren't up yet, either –"

Ruth ruffled his hair and smiled. "We have to have breakfast before we open presents," she said in a mild tone. "That way, your sisters can get here. And Graham and Catherine, too."

"Who are they?" Jamie asked.

"They're your big brother and big sister," Harry rumbled from the bed.

"Daddy!" Jamie cried, pushing past Ruth and hurtling himself at the bed at breakneck speed. He landed on Harry with a solid thump – and Harry cried out like a wounded animal. "Oh, I'm sorry, daddy – I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"You're too big to just jump on people," Harry grunted.

"But I'm little," Jamie said with a pout.

Ruth laughed. "Jamie, daddy's just grumpy this morning – let's go downstairs and make waffles."

"Oh, can I help, mommy?" Jamie asked eagerly, abandoning Harry and rejoining his mother in the doorway.

"I expect you to," Ruth replied with a smile. "Come on, little man – let's go downstairs."

"I'll be down in a bit," Harry muttered.

"Sure you will," Ruth said sarcastically. She led Jamie downstairs and smiled as he bounced up to Malcolm, announcing that they were going to make waffles for breakfast. Malcolm raised an eyebrow and Ruth shrugged. "It's a Christmas tradition," she explained.

Jamie ran to the kitchen and got his little apron on and came back. "Mummy, I'm ready," he announced. "Come on, let's make waffles now."

Malcolm laughed and said, "He's starting to pick up an accent."

"He should've had one growing up in a household of Brits," Ruth commented wryly. "Instead, he ended up sounding like a New Yorker. I was actually properly horrified of what Harry would think."

Jamie put his hands on his hips. "MUMMY. COME ON."

Ruth laughed and followed him into the kitchen. "You want Uncle Malcolm to help?" she asked.

Jamie sighed and rolled his eyes a bit. "I want Daddy to help, but he's sleeping," he muttered. "Uncle Malcolm will have to do."

Malcolm smiled just a little. "I shall endeavor to be the most wonderful kitchen helper there is," he said in a very serious tone.

Ruth got the waffle maker heating and whipped up a batter quickly. "Jamie, help me mix in the chocolate chips," she invited as she poured some into the batter.

Jamie struggled with the spoon, getting batter all over, but he was smiling and happy, and so were Ruth and Malcolm. "Mummy, is the maker really hot?" Jamie asked.

"Oh yes," she said. "You can't touch it."

A few minutes later, he was excitedly waiting for his waffle to cool off enough to be eaten – and the back door opened, revealing Rose and Daisy. "Hi, mum," Rose said. "We set off as soon as we knew they'd gritted the main roads."

"Go see your father and get changed," Ruth said with a small smile. "Breakfast will be ready very soon."

"Why should we go see dad?" Daisy asked.

"Because he was worried about you," Ruth said firmly. "Now scoot."

"Yes, mum," Daisy sighed. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

The girls got out of their coats and wet boots, and headed through the kitchen. Ruth kept making waffles and laying them out on plates. "I hope someone gets up soon to eat," she sighed, "or they'll all be cold."

A few minutes later, Elizabeth came into the kitchen in her pajamas, fluffy slippers, and Malcolm's dressing gown. Ruth did a double take, her mouth dropping open, then she shut it in a hurry. "Good morning, dear," Elizabeth said. "I could smell breakfast clear up there –"

"Hi, Gran," Jamie chirped. He had chocolate all over his face and sticky syrup all around his mouth. But his smile was infectious and Elizabeth smiled back at him.

"Hello, Jamie – did you sleep well?" she asked.

"I did! And Santa came with lots of things, Gran!" Jamie announced excitedly.

Malcolm poured Elizabeth a cup of tea, and gave her a gentle kiss good morning, which made Ruth's jaw drop again. "I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to the idea of you two, you know, being… together," Ruth stammered.

Malcolm blushed and said, "Well… it's not really for you to be used to, is it, Ruth? It's our business, really, if Liz and I want to be more than friends."

"No, no, it's all right, I'm not saying it's not," Ruth said quickly. "God knows what people thought when Harry and I got back together – but I just – it's not clicking in my head like it should. I'm sorry. It was a bit of a shock, though."

"So was coming over for Christmas and seeing you," Elizabeth shot back.

"Ah, that's Harry's fault, stupid git," Ruth muttered.

"Daddy's not stupid," Jamie spoke up.

"No, I'm not," Harry said, coming into the kitchen. "Are you trying to poison our son against his father?" he asked in a tone that was both annoyed and teasing at once – and Ruth found herself wondering how he managed it so easily.

"No, I'm just saying you're a stupid git for not telling everyone that I was home," Ruth sighed. "You're also a bit of a twit for not telling me that Malcolm and my mum –"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry," he said, "but is it any of our business if they get on like that?"

"Precisely what I said," Malcolm agreed. "Of course, when you found out , you threw a cup of coffee across the kitchen and shattered the mug, got yourself burnt, and got me rather splattered as well. So I'm not sure you have any room to talk, Harry."

Elizabeth hid a smile and kissed Malcolm's cheek. "Breakfast," she said pointedly. "Less drama."

Ruth couldn't believe that her mother seemed to be an entirely different person now that she had Malcolm in her life. It was eerie – almost like she'd reverted to the happy woman she'd been in the days Ruth's father had been alive. Ruth supposed it was a good thing, really. Too much unhappiness could and would ruin a person completely.

Daisy bounced back downstairs with Scarlett on her heels. "Did you make waffles, mum? Oh!"

"They've got chocolate chips," Jamie said. "That's the best kind."

Daisy smiled and gave him a kiss. "Happy Christmas, Jamie."

"Happy Christmas, Daisy," he replied. "Santa came. There's lots of presents for everybody."

"I know," Daisy said with a laugh. The room slowly filled up with the adults who were coming downstairs for tea or coffee and breakfast.

Jamie finished his food and said, "Mummy, can we open presents now? Please?"

"Not till Catherine and Graham get here," Harry said firmly. "They should be here soon."

Jamie sighed. "How soon?"

"Very soon," he promised. "And they'll bring your nieces and nephew with them."

Jamie cocked his head. "Will there be other kids for me to play with?" he asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "Siobhan is seven, Kelly is three, and Ben is just a tiny baby."

"Oh! Goody!" Jamie cried. "Kelly is three like me!"

The doorbell rang and Jamie got off his chair, intending to tear off – but Harry grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder. "No you don't, little man," he said. "You can come, but I open the door."

"Okay, daddy," Jamie said.

A couple of minutes later, Jamie was tearing into the room with a little girl with blonde pigtails and a huge smile. "My mummy made waffles," Jamie said. "Are you hungry, Kelly?"

"Uh-huh," Kelly said excitedly. "Can I have a waffle, Nana Rwoof?"

Ruth smiled and dished one up for the little girl. "Do you want syrup?"

Kelly shook her head. "No, sywup's sticky," she said, making a face. Ruth laid the plate down on the small table where Jamie and Kelly were already seated. "Oooh, it's got chocwit chips!"

"Mum makes the best Christmas waffles," Rose said with a smile.

Catherine and Harry came into the kitchen and Catherine said, "Graham is about ten minutes behind me. We had a bad run of lights and got separated."

Harry looked up from Ben and smiled. "Ruth, come meet your grandson," he said softly. "He's still a little sleepy."

"I'd rather say hello to Catherine," Ruth said, walking over and drawing her step-daughter into a tight hug. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Dad told me you were home, finally," Catherine whispered. "So I've been telling Kelly and Ben all about you – and showed Kelly pictures so she would know you and it would be much less awkward."

"The chocolate chip waffles probably helped," Ruth teased. Catherine just nodded and smiled. "You and I are going to talk later, okay?"

"Of course," Catherine said, smiling a little. "Now, come meet Ben."

A moment later, Harry was handing over the little baby in his heavy plush onsie-coat, and smiling. "He looks a lot like Jamie did in his baby photos," he commented.

Ruth smiled down at Ben and said, "Oh, no. He looks just like his mum. Catherine, he's lovely."

Catherine smiled. "Yeah, they both are – and I don't regret having either of them."

Kelly giggled and said, "Mummy, this is good breakfast!"

"Tell Nana Ruth thank you," Catherine said.

"Fankoo, Nana Rwoof," Kelly echoed with an impish smile.

"You're very welcome, Kelly," Ruth said, smiling back.

Catherine reached over and took Ben gently into her arms. "I'm going to get him out of his coat and check his nappy," she said cheerfully.

The doorbell rang again, and Harry made for the door before anyone could stop him. A couple of minutes later, a tiny flame-haired pixie bounced into the room, calling, "Scarlett, Scarlett – here puppy! Where are you, girl?"

Scarlett, for her part, was curled up at Jamie's feet, refusing to leave his side.

"Siobhan, leave that poor dog alone," Jenny sighed as she came in. She had a similar shade of hair and small stature as her daughter, but Siobhan's round face, pouty lips, and hazel eyes were all Pearce, all the time.

"Hi, Vonnie!" Daisy said. "Do you want some breakfast? Mum made waffles."

"What kind of waffles? Not the gross kind like my mum makes, right?" Siobhan asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Choclit chip!" Kelly piped up, chocolate smeared all over her mouth and cheeks.

Siobhan's face lit up. "Yes, please, and lots of syrup!"

Jenny looked at Ruth and said, "Well, you sure know how to spoil them –"

"It's a Christmas tradition," Ruth said simply.

Harry and Graham came into the room together, Graham's face a bit annoyed but not outright pissed off. "Dad, you could've warned me," was all he said.

"And ruin a perfectly good surprise?" Harry shot back.

"So Catherine is the only one you told?" Ruth asked. "Seriously?"

"He only told me because I asked why he was so happy all of a sudden," Catherine commented wryly. "I had to drag it out of him, though, so you should be pleased at his continued ability to keep things secret."

Ruth laughed. "Okay, Jamie, it's time to clean you up – you've got chocolate all over you," she sighed.

"But mummy –"

"No buts, little man. If you want to open presents, you need to clean up."

Jamie sighed. "Okay, mummy," he said with a little pout.

"Your stool is in the bathroom," Ruth reminded him gently. "Go wash your hands and your mouth, love." Jamie took off in a hurry.

Everyone else was either finishing or starting their breakfasts, and those who were finished were moving out to the sitting room. Kelly cleaned off her plate and said, "Nana Rwoof –"

"Just call me Nana," Ruth said softly. "It's easier for you to say, isn't it?"

Kelly nodded. "Nana, can you help me get the choclit off me, please?"

Ruth smiled and said, "Come to the loo with me, love." She led Kelly into the bathroom and got her all cleaned up. "Now, there's a little stool in here for little people," she said gently. "You can use it to get up high and wash your hands after you use the toilet."

"Kay, Nana," Kelly said with a big smile. "You're nice. Mummy said you was."

Ruth gave her a kiss on the cheek and murmured, "Thank you, Kelly – you're very nice, too."

They went back into the kitchen, where she overheard Harry telling Graham, "Yes, we were selfish – we wanted another child, and it happened at the most inconvenient time, I will grant you, but that doesn't mean that Jamie was not wanted or loved."

Ruth cleared her throat and both men looked over at her. "Jamie is not a subject for discussion when I'm out of the room," she said pointedly. "I would imagine you're surprised to find that you have a baby brother, Graham, and yes, Harry, the timing was not as it should have been. But Jamie is just as much a part of this family as anyone else, and I will have him treated as such."

Kelly said, "Nana, can I go see the Christmas tree?"

"Go ahead, love," Ruth said softly.

Siobhan finished her waffle and said, "Daddy, can we go open presents now?"

"Go wait in the sitting room," Graham said. "We'll be in soon."

"Graham," Harry said in a warning tone, "there's plenty of time to discuss this later. The kids have been waiting a long while already. Let's get them started on gifts and we can talk later while Ruth and Malcolm work on dinner."

Graham sighed and shook his head briefly, then held out his hand to Ruth. "I'm Graham, since my father is a bit of a twat and couldn't be bothered to introduce us," he said.

"Ruth," she replied softly, shaking his hand. "And James – Jamie – is the little one."

"Jenny's my wife and Siobhan is my daughter," Graham said unnecessarily. "You did good with Vonnie, by the way – she's always crabby on Christmas morning."

"Always," Harry said, rolling his eyes a little. "Now we know that chocolate chip waffles are her weakness."

Ruth chuckled. "Too much excitement, not enough sleep," she said. "That's why chocolate chip waffles are our tradition on Christmas morning – it's special."

"I… didn't… couldn't… continue your tradition while you were away," Harry said quietly. "We had eggs, bacon, and toast. The first Christmas, I tried to make the waffles, but I ended up crying so hard I put salt in instead of sugar because I could barely see and –"

Ruth smiled and wrapped her arms around her husband, holding him close. "It's okay," she whispered. "Now I'm back and things will go slowly back to normal." She gave him a gentle kiss. "Now, on to the gifts before the children start a riot."

END PART ELEVEN


	12. Chapter 12

Twelve:  
>Christmastide (pt 3)<p>

Jamie, Kelly, and Siobhan, of course, had the lion's share of gifts beneath (and around) the tree. Being very young, it was important that they felt like they were treated well and not ill. Ben was too young to know what was going on, but there were lots of presents for him as well.

Ruth had resigned herself to not getting anything, what with all they'd spent on the children, so she was surprised when Malcolm passed an envelope across from where it had been perched on the tree. "Ruth and Harry," he said with a mild smile.

"You open it," Harry said.

The outer envelope was pristine, but the inner envelope had already been opened. Ruth pulled out an invitation to the Queen's New Year's celebration. Her mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise, and she looked at Harry. "Have we already accepted?" she asked.

"Ah, yes, a week or two ago," Harry admitted, blushing a little around the ears. "You'll need a gown, though –"

"Good thing tomorrow's Boxing Day," Ruth said softly. "Oh, Harry… thank you."

He smiled. "You're very welcome, Lady Pearce."

Siobhan got up and rushed over. "Did you pick this?" she asked Ruth, holding up a silver chain with a delicate snowflake pendant on it. "Papa wouldn't pick this – did you?"

Ruth smiled and said, "I did."

Siobhan threw her arms around Ruth and hugged her tightly. "It's perfect," she whispered. "I love it."

"I'm so glad, Siobhan," Ruth whispered.

"Call me Vonnie like everybody else does, okay?" Siobhan said with a smile. "Can I call you Nana?"

Ruth almost started to cry, but she nodded and smiled. "I'd like that, Vonnie," she murmured.

"Will you help me put it on, Nana?" Siobhan asked, holding out the necklace. "I dunno how it works."

Ruth helped her with the tricky clasp and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Be careful with it," she said softly. "It's your first adult jewelry, and your Papa and I don't want you to lose it."

"I won't," Siobhan promised emphatically. She threw her arms around Harry and said, "Thank you, Papa."

"You're welcome, Vonnie," Harry said with a smile. "I'm glad you like what Nana picked for you."

She gave him a kiss and went scampering back to her pile of gifts. Harry squeezed Ruth's hand and smiled, and she twined her fingers with his, content to see everyone else be happy for once.

Jamie came over with a book in his hands. "Mummy, will you read to me?" he asked.

"Don't you want to finish opening your presents?" she asked gently.

"Yes, but this one is special," he said. "This one is about New York."

Ruth understood; he was homesick. Just as she'd spent all her time in New York longing to be home in London, he was spending his time in London longing for New York – the only home he'd really known. "Come here, love," she murmured, helping him up onto her lap. He got comfortable, snuggling up against her, and she read aloud from his new book. He could do it for himself, but she knew the comforting sound of her voice as she read would help dispel a bit of his sadness. Once she was finished, she murmured, "Now, why don't you take this into the library, and put it on your bookcase, love?"

Jamie's eyes got very wide. "I have a bookcase?" he breathed.

Harry grinned at him. "You do," he said simply. "All of your books are on it already."

"I get my own bookcase?" Jamie said, his breath coming in little excited puffs through his nose.

"You do," Ruth said with a chuckle. "Do you want daddy to go show you?"

Jamie nodded and hopped down, clutching his book. "Daddy, please?" he said, barely reining in his excitement. "Pretty please?"

Harry got up and took his son's hand. "Let's go have a look," he said.

When they came back a couple of minutes later, Jamie's eyes were shining and his grin was enormous. "Mummy, mummy, I have a bookcase! And so many books!" he cried.

Ruth hugged him tightly and gave him a big kiss. This was her baby, the last one she would ever have, and she loved him dearly with all her heart. Spoiling him rotten was easy; just as it was easy to spoil his older sisters, as well.

Speaking of, Rose gasped as she opened the boxes from her parents. "Oh!"

Harry looked up from Jamie and said, "Are they the ones you wanted for school?"

Rose nodded, speechless, as she clutched the box with a new laptop and another smaller box with an iPod. "I – dad – mum – you didn't have to –"

"Silly girl," Harry said gruffy. "Of course we didn't have to. We wanted to." He wasn't going to tell her that he'd bought them months before, long before he knew Ruth would be home, and neither would Ruth, though she knew.

"And you need them for your classes," Ruth added. "I modified the iPod so you can record lectures."

"Is that above board, mum?" Rose asked, smiling a little.

"Absolutely not," Ruth replied with a grin. "Don't ask silly questions you already know the answers to, love."

"Thank you," Rose murmured. "So much, thank you –"

Daisy squealed as she opened a box to reveal a new dress that she'd been wanting during the summer. Harry had, of course, sent Ros round to pick it up in an appropriate size, and it had been hidden away. He could be very sweet when he wanted to be; that's why Ruth was head over heels in love with him, even though he could also be an anal-retentive know-it-all with OCD tendencies and a propensity for being a grumpy jackass.

"Daddy, you remembered!" Daisy cried.

"Of course I did," Harry said simply.

Graham opened an envelope and looked bowled over, his hands shaking as he pulled what looked like a photograph out of the envelope. "Oh my god," he breathed. He looked at his wife, eyes wide. "Really?"

Jenny grinned at him. "Really," she said. "Do you know how hard it's been to hide for the last month that I'm pregnant?"

Graham finally blinked and said, "I'm going to be a dad again?"

"Yes, you daft pain in the rear," Jenny said. "You're going to be a dad. Happy Christmas." She leaned over and kissed him on the lips; it was clear he was still shell-shocked, because he barely reacted.

"Congratulations," Ruth said with a smile. "It sounds like you've been trying for a while –"

"We've been trying since Vonnie was a year old," Jenny admitted.

"Well, I'm very glad for you," Ruth said. "All of you." She was happy, really; it just seemed surreal that she was going to be a grandmother again, when she'd only known for a few hours that she was a grandmother at all.

Jamie cried out in glee and smiled widely. "Mummy, mummy, I got a new Harry Bear! From Uncle Malcolm!" He held it up and bounced over to give Malcolm as enormous of a hug as he could manage. Malcolm merely smiled and hugged him back. After the original Harry Bear had met with an unfortunate accident (Scarlett had mistaken him for one of her toys and had ripped him to shreds), Jamie had been inconsolable.

_Thank you_, Ruth mouthed at Malcolm, who merely winked in reply.

"Thank you, Uncle Malcolm," Jamie said. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Jamie," Malcolm replied. "I'm glad you like him."

"His name is Harry, like daddy," Jamie announced to everyone. "Harry Bear is with me when daddy can't be."

"Who's you daddy?" Kelly asked Jamie.

Jamie pointed at Harry and said, "That's my daddy, Kelly."

"That's my Papa!" Kelly said sharply, clutching her new doll tightly. "He can't be you daddy. He's _my_ Papa!"

"Kelly, none of that," Catherine said. "Jamie's daddy is my daddy, too."

"But Jamie's frwee," Kelly said with a consternated look. "How can you daddy be his daddy?"

Ruth laughed. "Because I'm much younger than your Papa is," she said gently. "Come here and sit with me, Kelly, and show me your new dolly. Do you like her?" Kelly nodded and awkwardly climbed up onto Ruth's lap. "Oh, she looks just like you," Ruth said with a smile. "How did Father Christmas know what to get you?"

"Mummy hewlped me wite a wetter," Kelly said. "Cause I dunno how."

Ruth gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Would you like me to teach you how?"

"I'm not too widdle?" Kelly asked, looking up at Ruth with big eyes.

"You're not too little," Ruth murmured. "After dinner, we'll sit down and learn, okay?"

Kelly smiled and nodded eagerly. "Yes, pwease, Nana."

Ruth gave her another kiss, then cuddled her close. "You know, I've never been a Nana before," Ruth whispered conspiratorially. "I've only ever been a mummy. You'll have to tell me if I'm doing a good job or not."

"You're a really good Nana," Kelly whispered back. "An' you smell good."

Ruth smiled, and glanced at Harry, who was smiling and near tears. "Oh, Harry, don't cry," Ruth scoffed. "We've both done enough of that lately."

"I'm just happy," he said. "That you're home; that… that we're a family again."

"Oh, shush and open your present," Ruth said. "You daft old sod," she added sweetly.

He rolled his eyes and opened the large flat box that Daisy passed over. His eyes lit up. "Ruth, this is –"

"That is because you needed a new suit," she said pointedly. "The tie was purely self-indulgent, though. I love the way you look in blue." Ruth winked at him.

Kelly said, "Papa got a new suit? For work?"

"Yes, Kelly, Papa got a new suit for work," Ruth murmured.

"That's not a good pwesent," Kelly sighed. "Papa works too hard."

Harry laughed. "What do you think a good present for me would be, then, Kelly?"

Kelly smiled over at him and said, "I gotted you a toy for your desk, Papa."

Catherine burst out laughing and Kelly gave her mother a wounded look. "Sorry, dad, but – yeah," Catherine said, passing over a small, oddly shaped package. It turned out to be a cheap toy sunflower with a solar panel attached. When light hit the panel, the leaves of the plant bobbed up and down.

"Oh, that's a really good present," Harry said with a smile. "I'll put it right next to your picture, Kelly."

Ruth looked up to see Malcolm holding her mother's hands, speaking lowly and earnestly to her. A small box – a ring box – was balanced on Elizabeth's thigh, and Ruth held her breath, just watching. Elizabeth nodded and squeezed Malcolm's hand before he slid a ring onto her finger.

She hadn't realized that it was serious – that serious, anyway. Not that she thought her mother was capable of playing Malcolm about or being a bitch about throwing him over for the next new thing. But she hadn't understood until she saw them kiss, saw the exchange of a ring, saw that he made her mother happy… And Ruth was happy for them. If they had half of what she and Harry had, she couldn't find fault with their relationship.

"Mummy, this has your name on it," Jamie said, bringing over a wrapped box, about twelve inches square and about three inches deep. "It says it's from…"

"A daft old sod," Ruth read, giving Harry a fond, yet slightly dirty, look. "Harry, really, you didn't have to –"

"There was no have to about it," Harry said firmly. "No way is my wife forgoing Christmas presents. Now, open it."

Ruth rolled her eyes and opened the box. "Oh – _Harry_…"

"Before you say anything barmy like that I shouldn't have spent all that money, let me tell you that the only money I spent was on petrol to retrieve these from their safekeeping at Buckingham Palace," Harry said gently.

"Harry –"

"My great-grandmother was in service to Queen Alexandra, and my grandmother to Queen Mary," Harry said softly. "I inherited a few pieces of jewelry, but I left them at the Palace in trust of Her Majesty until I decided what to do with them. I'd almost forgotten about them, to be honest. But I want you to wear them, Ruth."

She was still staring at the necklace, unable to believe that he'd wrapped it up in gaudy paper with Christmas ornaments all over it. "Harry…"

"You don't like it?" he asked, sounding worried.

"I've never seen anything like it," she breathed.

"Ten strands of perfectly matched pearls," Harry said softly. "It was a gift from Queen Alexandra to my great-grandmother for her devoted service. The clasp is platinum and diamonds –"

"It must be worth a fortune," Ruth breathed.

"Enough so that it will be going into the safe deposit box day after tomorrow," Harry said cautiously.

"How much?" Ruth asked.

"About three million, give or take a couple hundred thousand?" he mumbled.

"_HARRY_!" Her eyes were wide and she didn't even want to touch the necklace for fear of ruining it. "Bloody hell!"

"This is for you, too, mummy," Jamie said. "I think it's from daddy."

Ruth blinked at him. "More?" she asked weakly.

Harry looked uncomfortable. "Ruth, please don't be cross –"

"I'm not cross, I just –"

He blinked at her and said, "Will you wear them to the New Year's Ball?"

She hesitated, then said, "Oh, Harry… of course I will. I just – you didn't have to –"

He gave her a gentle kiss. "Open the next one," he said.

She complied, finding a matching bracelet. And the third, and final, of the set was a diamond and sapphire brooch in the shape of a peacock. Ruth was near tears, then Kelly piped up and said, "Nana, they's sparkly."

"They're shiny," Jamie added.

Ruth swallowed hard and looked at Harry, hoping he could see that she didn't need fancy royal heirloom jewelry to be happy with him. She didn't care about money, or a title, or any of it; she only needed him. She knew that their bank balance was very healthy, thanks to his investments and his inheritance, as well as shrewd spending and indulging when it made sense…

Daisy gasped and breathed, "Oh my god. Mum, dad – is this for real?"

Ruth glanced over at Daisy and smiled. "Very real," she said.

Daisy held up two plane tickets and squeaked, "I'm going to Paris on spring term break to see the Louvre?"

"You are," Harry said. "Your mum agreed to go with you."

Daisy all but threw herself across the room, into her mother's arms, crying. "Oh, mum, I – I - I'm so excited!" They hugged tight, almost squishing Kelly in the process. Kelly slid out from between them and went to sit with Jamie by the Christmas tree. "Really? We're really going to Paris?"

"We are," Ruth said with a smile. "Your father and I already booked the hotel, and the flights."

"But I – I thought you'd think I need –"

"You're my artist," Ruth murmured. "Jamie is my poet, Rose is my wordsmith, and you are my artist. No better place to experience art, my love, than the Louvre."

"Have you been before?"

"I have," Ruth said, "but you haven't and I'd like you to."

Everyone was reaching the bottom of their gift piles, and Daisy went back to finish hers. Harry leaned over and whispered, "I know we missed our anniversary… but I have something for you, my love."

"Harry, I don't need –"

He gave her a dour, annoyed look. "Oh, shut up, mule," Harry muttered, "and give me your hand." She did as he asked, and he removed her wedding band and engagement ring, replacing them with a simple platinum circlet inlaid with baguette diamonds. "Do you like it?"

"Harry, I don't need it," she murmured.

"Do you like it?"

"Looks like my hand is about to lift off," she commented wryly. "You're just bound and determined to make me the center of attention –"

"Ruth," he said softly, "that was my mum's ring. She made me promise to give it to the woman I love. I didn't give it to Jane – I saved it for you."

Jamie came over and said, "Mummy, that's pretty. Daddy gived you lots of pretty things."

"Yes, he did," Ruth said softly.

"Mummy, I gotted you a present," Jamie said.

"You did?" Ruth asked with a smile.

He nodded and climbed up on her lap. When he thought she was ready, he leaned in and gave her a big, sloppy kiss. "Do you like it?" Jamie asked with a grin.

"Oh, that was the best present I got all day," Ruth said with a chuckle. "The very best."

Harry pouted. "Even better than diamonds?" he asked, pretending to be injured.

Ruth just rolled her eyes and sighed. "Harry, don't pretend to be a martyr. It's Christmas."

Siobhan said, "We should play a game now!"

"Oh no," Elise said. "Your nana, her mum, and I need to start dinner. The rest of you can play games or watch telly or whatever – we've got cooking to do."

"Mummy, we can have the cookies!" Jamie cried excitedly.

"There are biscuits?" Rose piped up.

Harry took the jewelry boxes from Ruth and said, "Now we've gone and done it –"

Ruth just smiled and leaned over to give him a kiss. "I wouldn't have today any other way," she whispered. "Not ever. Biscuits and squabbling and all."

END PART TWELVE


	13. Chapter 13

There continues to be no word on my brother. I'm just hanging in there and trying to keep it real.

* * *

><p>Thirteen:<br>Christmastide (pt four)

Elise was in charge of the turkey and the goose, Elizabeth was in charge of the side dishes, and Ruth was in charge of the pudding. Ruth made several quick custard pies, an apple pie, and a honey pumpkin pie, glad that Harry had insisted on having two dual ovens installed specifically for this purpose when they'd moved into the newer, much larger house.

They worked quickly and quietly, until Ruth said, "Mum, I'm happy for you and Malcolm."

Elizabeth looked up and blinked. "Oh," she said quietly.

"No, I mean it," Ruth said. "I love Malcolm dearly, and if you're happy with him, I'm happy for the both of you."

"But you don't approve, really, do you?"

"Mum, it's not my place to approve," Ruth sighed. "God knows you didn't approve of Harry. Do you now?"

"Only because he's a decent man who took care of your girls while you were galavanting all over god knows where," Elizabeth scoffed. "Bloody hell, Ruth, if you wanted to find yourself, couldn't you just go fuck a girl and be done with it?"

Ruth blinked. "Mum," she said, "it was to do with work."

"Like hell it was." Elizabeth's words were icy and cut straight to the bone. "You left your children behind with a man who couldn't even hardly make himself toast in the morning!"

Elise cleared her throat, then said, "To be fair, Harry did a damn good job of taking care of the girls."

Elizabeth huffed, then said, "Elise, you're too damn nice for your own good. I'm surprised Harry took you back at all, Ruth – especially since Jamie could be god knows anybody's baby, the way you pop them out!"

Ruth felt as though she'd just been slapped within an inch of her life. "How dare you say that to me?" she whispered. "How fucking dare you, mum? You have no idea what I went through. You have no clue! You don't know anything and I wish you'd shut your fucking mouth sometimes. Who's brilliant advice was it for me to stay with Gareth, huh? Even though you knew he abused me. Thanks for that, by the way. It taught me how to be invisible and survive in plain sight." She couldn't keep the anger, the bitterness, the sarcasm out of her voice. "You know what? I don't see what Malcolm loves about you. I can't. I've lived with your derisive hateful behavior my entire life. Just… forget it, mum."

She left the room before either of them could stop her, and she rushed past the sitting room and the library and out onto the front steps without her coat. After the presents, they'd all taken the time to go upstairs and change into clothes for the day, and she was glad of it – there was at least a little warmth in her jumper and jeans.

She rushed up the street, ignoring her mother's cry from the house. She couldn't, wouldn't, go back and face that kind of scorn and hate masquerading as love and concern. Malcolm could have her if he wanted her so badly, but Ruth was done, finished, over fighting with her mother over every little thing. She'd lost too much time to their arguments over the years.

It was cold, almost bitterly so, and the wind was whipping around her with malice. She heard footsteps behind her, crunching on the ice and snow, and she whirled around to see Catherine following her. "Go back to the party," Ruth said. "No point in my ruining it for everyone. It's obvious that you had a better time last year."

Catherine held up Ruth's coat. "I thought you might get cold," she said. "Are you okay?"

"No," Ruth said, "I'm not." Really, honestly, she couldn't bear to go back after that. Everything was wrong after she'd come home from New York. Her kids didn't know how to treat her, Harry put her on a pedestal, everyone else gave her a wide berth… all she wanted was for everything to be normal again. She didn't know which way was up, really.

Catherine said, "You and your mum don't get along, then?"

Ruth hesitated, then shook her head. "No point in sugar coating it, is there? No. We don't. Never have. She loves the girls to bits, though, despite me clearly making all the wrong decisions in having them in the first place." She still hadn't moved to take her coat from her step-daughter.

"Ruth, you're going to freeze," Catherine urged, holding the coat out to her.

"You know, when I told her I was pregnant with Rose, she asked if I was having an affair," Ruth said bitterly. "Because god knows everyone knew my husband was flamingly gay." She shook her head and took the coat, but didn't put it on. "And when I was pregnant with Daisy, it actually was an affair. But she just assumed it was Gareth again, because her sweet, mousy little Ruth wouldn't dare do something so naughty."

"Sometimes, we do all the wrong things for the right reasons," Catherine said softly. "You should've heard dad when I told him I was pregnant with Ben. I thought he was going to bring the whole house down around my ears."

"Your father only wants what's best for you," Ruth said automatically. "My mother, on the other hand, was never a very good mum in that regard, and I was left to follow my own moral compass most of the time."

"You seem to have turned out just fine," Catherine replied. "She's a bit of a piece of work, though – Malcolm's trying to bring her round right now. He knows she upset you badly, and they were starting to shout when I walked out the door."

"Malcolm shouldn't have to play go-between," Ruth sighed, running her hands over her face. "God, I hate this. I hate not being able to have an actual conversation with my mum without it turning into an outright fight."

"I know," Catherine murmured. "Put your coat on and we'll take a couple turns around the block, okay? I want to help, Ruth; I hate seeing you upset just as much as dad does."

"Then why isn't he the one out here?" Ruth shot back, slipping into her coat and buttoning it up.

"Because he's busy entertaining the littles," Catherine said, "and you can't just stop in the middle of a handpuppet play with a couple of three year olds."

"No, you're right," Ruth agreed, smiling a little at the thought of Harry doing puppet theatre for Jamie and Kelly. Siobhan probably would be watching, too, but would lie and say she wasn't because puppets were for babies – that had been Rose and Daisy's line so long ago. She looked at Catherine properly for the first time, and saw naked concern and a small amount of love and compassion in her eyes, and she came to realize then that Harry's daughter had completely adopted her as a friend at least. "Catherine, I'm fine," Ruth said quietly. "This is typical, status quo; there's no need to worry about me. I survive."

"Surviving is easy," Catherine said. "It's the living with it day after day that's difficult." She looked away, and Ruth felt a pang of guilt for making her feel whatever she was feeling in that moment. "Kelly's dad was in the Army," she said quietly. "He went to Afghanistan. He didn't come home. There wasn't enough of him left to bring home. I survive, because I have to, but I'm not sure… that I'm living." She glanced back, and Ruth reached out to hold her hand as they walked. "I dated a man that, in retrospect, probably wasn't any good for me at all, but he made me feel wanted, special… and then I found out he was married and he wanted me to have an abortion because his wife would find out. That's Ben. So, no, living with it is the hard part. Dad nearly had a stroke."

Ruth said, "I had a friend when I was living in Miami who wanted to be much more than a friend. But I love your father too much to ever really contemplate screwing around with someone else." She looked over at Catherine. "Your dad was the only affair I've ever had, you know. I was married when we met. It was very difficult to live with, especially when he killed off his legend and I was left alone and pregnant to face my husband – and nothing was right after that."

"Nothing's been right for me since Liam died," Catherine whispered. "I've got two kids and I can barely function. I live with my brother and his wife; I quit making films."

"No," Ruth said, in shock, "Catherine, you didn't –"

"Well, I can't bloody leave my kids and go off on adventures, can I?" Catherine said sharply. When she realized what she'd said, and how overcome with guilt Ruth was suddenly, she said, "I didn't mean to imply that what you did was anything like that at all, Ruth. Dad told me that you being gone was to do with work and you couldn't help it – he spent all his spare time working to prove your innocence and bring you home. When he wasn't trying to cope with Rose and Daisy, I mean. I tried to help, but it was hard for everyone. I stopped making films after Liam died, because I couldn't bear the thought of figuring out the logistics of getting Kelly cared for."

"You should never stop doing what you love because you're grieving," Ruth murmured. "It makes everything that much harder to live with."

"I want to start again, but I don't know how," Catherine admitted. "And now there's Ben to worry about, too, not just Kelly."

"We'll get you a nanny," Ruth said firmly. "And help you raise money for your next film. There's nothing in the world that Harry and I would like more than to help you get back on your feet, Catherine. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help before; I am. I don't know that there was anything I could have done, but…" She paused and inhaled deeply. "But I know how you feel. Like you're drowning and there's no help in sight. But you're wrong – you just need to reach out and ask."

"I'm glad you're back," Catherine said very quietly.

"I'm sorry about your mum."

Catherine shrugged. "She'd gone off me and my antics, as she called them. She didn't want Graham or me near her when she was in hospital. She insisted on making things right with dad, though. Brain cancer does funny things to people, I guess."

Ruth squeezed her step-daughter's hand. "Well, I can't guarantee to be the mother figure you need, but if you need advice, or anything… I'll be here, now," she promised.

"I don't need you to be my mum," Catherine said, a bit indignantly. "I need you to be my friend."

"That I can do without reservation," Ruth said, smiling. "It's rather chilly. Maybe we should go back."

"Only if you think you're ready to face the dragon," Catherine said. "I've not really liked your mum, but dad says a family Christmas is a family Christmas even if we don't like your mum." She smiled a little, then added, "He's not very fond of her, either, but she adores my sisters."

Ruth felt a rush of warmth hearing Catherine refer to them as her sisters, as though she'd taken them firmly under her wings and made them hers. "Well, mum was always fonder of Rose and Daisy than she was of me," Ruth admitted with a little smile. "It's okay, though. I can't change the past. Neither can she. We can only make choices in the here and now."

"Are you ready to go back?" Catherine asked.

Ruth nodded and sighed. "I suppose I should apologize to her."

"No, you shouldn't," Catherine said. "She was in the wrong, not you."

"It's not about who was wrong or right," Ruth said, "it's about mending fences." Though, she would admit, she mended hers just to have them torn down again.

They rounded the corner and headed back toward the house. Harry was sitting on the front steps, waiting for them. "Ruth," he said softly, standing up, looking more worried and frightened than she'd ever seen him. "I thought – I thought you'd leave and not come back –"

"Never," Ruth murmured, wrapping her arms around him and holding on for dear life. "I'm never going to willingly leave you again, Harry. I just needed to clear my head and talk myself out of chucking my mum out onto the street on Christmas day."

Harry looked up at his daughter and said, "Thank you for checking on her –"

"Dad, don't worry about it," Catherine said softly. "Besides, if I didn't go after her, she'd be out here without her coat. And it's bloody freezing."

Harry pulled back just a little and gave Ruth a kiss. "Promise me you won't go out without your coat again," he said softly. "And if you're ever that angry at me for being a stupid old git that you'll just throw something at me instead of running out into the street without a coat."

"I promise," Ruth sighed, kissing him back. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't; you just scared me half to death."

"Well, I'm sorry I frightened you," she whispered. "I wouldn't leave you, Harry. Not after everything." She hugged him tighter, tucking her face into his chest. "She just makes me so angry with her assumptions and being a bitter old cow –"

"Malcolm has set her straight," Harry said quietly. "About your leaving. He's rather cross with her right now."

"I'm sorry I'm such a bloody trouble," Ruth sighed.

Catherine said, "I probably ought to get inside – Ben will probably be wanting a feed about now." She disappeared inside, leaving Harry and Ruth holding each other on the front stoop. The neighbors would talk if they saw it, but everyone should be inside celebrating the holiday.

"Harry, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't even think – I just needed to get out of there, away from my mum."

"I know," Harry sighed.

"Catherine wouldn't leave me alone – I'm grateful she didn't," Ruth said softly. "She's hurting so much, Harry."

"I know," he whispered, "and there's nothing I can do for her that I haven't already done."

"Well, then, it's a good thing I'm back," Ruth said firmly. "She needs to know she's not alone, no matter what she thinks. And she's not. If she could go back to making films, it would be such a boon to her spirit. Where is she working right now?"

"She works for Jenny," Harry said. "She's one of the three partners in Jenny's business; they're doing quite well, actually. Just secured a contract with Harrods for their luxury bath goods, in fact. Catie should just stay with what she's doing – it's less dangerous, more stable and…"

"And her heart just isn't in it," Ruth pointed out softly. "We should work something out, even if it's just the MI-5 recruitment video. I'm sure you need a new one of those; seems like they go out of date every few months, don't they?"

"That's actually not a bad idea," he murmured, holding her tighter. "God, I just want to take you upstairs and –"

"Too many people in the house," she pointed out, chuckling. "You want to take a turn around the block with me?"

"It's too bloody cold," he muttered. "Let's go inside."

She sighed. "I really don't want to talk to her, Harry, not even to apologize."

"Then don't," he replied. "But come inside before we both start freezing our bits and bobs off."

She smiled a little and murmured, "I feel like an ass for getting you a new suit and tie when you showered me with jewels."

"Ruth, there's no greater gift you could have given me than just being here," he whispered. "Except maybe Jamie, but even he's a close second to having you home."

"I'm sorry everything was so difficult," Ruth murmured.

"Life is difficult," he pointed out.

"Let's go inside," she said after another minute or so of just holding one another and feeling safe. "I need to check on the pies."

"Ah, yes," Harry replied. "The pies."

She poked him. "You'll love the pumpkin one – it's made with honey instead of all the usual sugar, so it caramelizes better and has much more flavor."

"I don't like pumpkin."

She scowled at him. "How are we so much in love and can't even agree on Christmas pudding?" she asked.

"I don't know," he admitted, "but as long as there's an apple pie, I will be happy."

"There is," she said with a small smile, giving him a gently tender kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Harry said.

Small words that didn't even come close to touching the deep well of their devotion, but words spoken none the less.

END PART THIRTEEN


	14. Chapter 14

Fourteen:  
>Christmastide (pt five)<p>

Much later after dinner, Elise and Rob got their things together and left for the trip home. They couldn't leave the dogs for very long, especially as two of the bitches were close to whelping time. Malcolm and Elizabeth disappeared upstairs. Daisy begged Rose for a ride to her boyfriend's, so they left for a while, too. Kelly decided that she didn't want to leave Jamie (as they had become best of friends), so it was decided that she would spend the night with Nana and Papa, while Catherine and Ben would go home with the rest of their family.

It took a while to get the two excited three year olds down for the night, but once it happened, Ruth and Harry shared a private smile before they went back downstairs and began cleaning up the supper dishes. It took over an hour to get through the pile of cutlery, glasses, and dishware in the sink, so it was decided that everything else could wait till the next morning.

Harry hung up the drying towel and said, "So… I suppose we should adjourn to bed, then."

Ruth blushed a touch, then replied, "Ah, yes, well… one of your gifts was very much not appropriate for young eyes. So you still have a bit of unwrapping to do, my love."

He smiled, a little wolfishly, and said, "Is it the kind of unwrapping that I usually enjoy?"

"Oh yes," she replied cheerfully. "But I need a couple of minutes head start."

He gave her an annoyed look. "For what? I'm just taking your clothes off –"

"Harry, lower your voice," Ruth said. "You don't need to wake Kelly and Jamie up."

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "How are we going to make love with a bunch of kids in the house?"

"Same way we have been," she pointed out dryly. "And it's a good thing we can be quiet."

He grunted. "Fine, have your head start," he muttered. "I'll use the kids' loo and meet you in our room in five minutes."

She raised an eyebrow. "Five? It takes you five minutes to pee now?"

"Give the old man a break," Harry said with a sigh. "Not everything works like it's meant to now."

"I'm sorry," she replied automatically.

He came closer and gave her a kiss. "Love," Harry whispered, "you've got to get out of the habit of apologizing for everything, especially things out of your control."

"I was commiserating."

"You looked guilty when you said it."

"I'm sorry that my bad habit offends you," she said with an annoyed sigh. "But I'm going upstairs. If you're not there in five minutes, you'll miss out."

"You wouldn't."

"I will," she replied with false cheerful bravado. "I've been getting myself off for years, Harry. Of course I would."

"Five minutes," he ground out between clenched teeth.

She took off for the stairs and made her way to the bedroom. She already had the new, sassy lingerie on – it was surprisingly comfortable for something so expensive and frivolous. Ruth slipped out of her jeans and jumper and into one of Harry's disused work shirts – the dark grey one they had retired just before she'd been forced to leave (and that had wound up in her dresser) – and she buttoned it just up over her breasts. She added the precious pearl necklace to the ensemble and prayed that Harry's great-grandmum would forgive her for being a bit… naughty… with it. She wanted to show him her appreciation, and, really, it went so well with the bra and knickers –

Five minutes was over far too quickly, as the door opened and Harry came in. He looked up and stopped still in his tracks, his eyes widening, darkening with the emotions and the lust that she inspired in him after all their time together. She could read his expression, could see him warring with himself, then knew the moment when he gave in.

Harry inhaled deeply and said, "You fill that shirt out so much better than I ever did."

She smirked and said, "Ah, yes, well… I've had years to get fattened up."

He gave her a dour look. "Have I ever given you reason to doubt how you look?" Harry asked. "I don't mind you being a bit larger or smaller – what I mind is that you don't feel comfortable with yourself, still." He kicked off his shoes and reached down to take off his socks. "Bloody hell, Ruth, all I want to do is worship you, and you like to think you aren't worth the effort."

"Oh, I'm worth the effort," she purred, fingering the pearls that dipped low across her belly. She wondered how they would feel against her skin, between them – would they be cold or would they warm up with the heat between them? "I just don't always think that I'm meant to be worshipped. I'd be a very bad deity."

He unbuttoned his shirt cuffs. "No, you would be a very balanced, fair deity, only taking your wrath out on those who really deserve it…" Harry looked at her and winked. "By the way, I think we should think about a holiday this year, just us –"

She scowled at him. "Harry, I'm standing here, waiting for you, and you're yammering on about a vacation?" Ruth said sharply. "I need you, you stupid old man. So get over here and start unwrapping," she ordered brusquely, knowing that it turned him on immensely when she was demanding and forthright.

He raised an eyebrow and said, "Really? You're going to give your boss orders now, Ruthie?"

She ran her fingers down over her thigh, shivering as gooseflesh rose in the wake of her fingertips. "Oh, but you aren't my boss for a few more days," Ruth breathed, "so I think I can get away with it."

Harry blinked at her, as if suddenly realizing that she'd been serious before when she'd said she could get herself off. "Oh, okay," he agreed, coming over and kissing her deeply. She moaned, melting against him; yes, she could get herself off… but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as being with him. Fantasy and reality were blurred lines between them; always had been.

"You wanna do some unwrapping, too?" he whispered against her lips. "I've got a present for you, as well…"

"Mmm, yes," she agreed, eagerly helping him with his buttons, each little disc sliding through its hole neatly, quickly – Ruth was very adept at buttons. She pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and smiled, loving the expanse of chest and belly she was revealing. She and Harry had met not in the first flushes of youth, so she couldn't imagine him before the desk had claimed his waistline, but she had seen photos. She would have given heaven, hell, and all the earth to have been just a few years older and to have met him when he was still strapping and full of the intensity of youth. Her lips met his chest, trailing little hot, open-mouthed kisses down his body till she met his belt and his trousers.

He wanted her – the tightness of his khakis proved it beyond any reasonable doubt. She looked up at him coyly, watching him look down her shirt at her cleavage as she released his belt buckle. His eyes were burning with desire, intensity of feeling that never seemed to change, despite the years and their separations. She unbuttoned, then unzipped, his pants, and slid them down over his well-padded bum and muscular thighs…

And burst out laughing.

"Oh my god," she cackled. "_HARRY!"_

He was wearing bright red boxers patterned with little wrapped gifts in black with green bows. The words "HO HO HO" were written across the front, bold as brass, one of the HOs being right across the fly where his erection was attempting to peek through. It was just too bloody much.

He was grinning with mirth, a dirty chuckle escaping his lips. "I've been waiting all day for that," he admitted.

She finally stopped laughing – but not till tears had begun to escape from the corners of her eyes. "Next time, warn a girl," Ruth giggled, gasping for breath as she pulled the boxers down his legs and leaned in to press a kiss to the tip of his dick as it bobbed, apparently glad to be free of the boxers.

"It's what you might call a gag gift," Harry said.

She raised an eyebrow, then looked at his cock, then back up at him, trying to keep a straight face. "Oh really?"

"RUTH! I didn't mean it like that!"

She lost it again, caught in a fit of the giggles, even as he hoisted her up to her feet and began impatiently unbuttoning the rest of the buttons on her shirt. She stopped laughing, however, when his voice lowered with appreciation, lust, and naked need as he exhaled, "Oh… Ruth."

She'd gone for the burgundy satin (as his favorite color was red, but such a bold shade didn't suit her coloring), covered in black lace, with thin gold ribbon around the edging. The bra was a plunging demi cut that pushed her breasts up almost indecently, with a gold bow right in the center, covering the front clasp. The panties were low-cut bikinis in a similar fashion, but the gold bow was, cheekily, hovering over the edge of the back seam near her bum. She was actually worried that he would blow a gasket when he saw the credit card statement, as the set had set her back quite a bit, but the look on his face made the extravagant purchase worth every pound.

He was still just staring at her, his hands having come to a complete stop.

"Harry," she said softly. "Harry," Ruth repeated, trying to get his attention again. "Hey, why did you stop?" she teased when he finally tore his eyes from her breasts and looked at her.

"I – god, Ruth, I almost came just looking at you," he said, a twinge of mortification in his tone. "Next time, you've got to warn me –"

"Calm down," she murmured, coming closer and slipping out of his old shirt. "We've got all night."

"You might have all night, but I'm old," he said bluntly.

She pulled him down for a hungry kiss and whispered, "Count backward and think of waterboarding."

He growled and kissed her with all the passion they'd misplaced between them. There were times when their lovemaking was slow and tender, but when they abstained a little while, or when they weren't sure where things stood between them, it was always sizzling, scorching, full of unspoken needs and wants that only abandon could set free. She whimpered and took his erection in her hand, slowly stroking the full length of him, listening to the sound he made in the back of his throat – it made her feel powerful, like she was the only one who had ever inspired such a noise to come from him.

His fingers fumbled with the bra clasp, then her breasts were free. The sensation of cool pearls against her nipples and the sensitive flesh of her breasts shot fire straight to her core, and a flush came over her body already. If he touched her, she would come; it was very simple and she wasn't ready. "Stop," she exhaled weakly, holding his hands away from her. "Let me."

Harry's eyes darkened even further, becoming the color of honey-laced tea, and she took a couple of steps back, hooking her thumbs into her knickers, shimmying out of them like a belly dancer, hips and thighs jiggling in a rhythm that was only hers. It gave her a moment to cool down, to breathe, to calm herself before the oncoming storm.

"You did that the first time we had sex," he said, chuckling a little. His laugh was deep, hoarse, and she knew he was struggling to hold back as much as she was. "I still think it's the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

She smiled and moved back into his arms, pressing her body against his and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. One kiss became a dozen, two dozen, countless deep, drugging kisses, tongues playing against one another not in a play for dominance, but in a play for pleasure. His cock was hard against her belly, and she was tingling all over, heat rising in her core until she thought she might be overcome –

His hand slid between her legs, brushing her folds, and she shattered into a million pieces. "Oh," Ruth managed finally to exhale when she could breathe again.

Harry had an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Oh indeed," he said softly. "I take it you weren't expecting that –"

"Not as such, no," she murmured, her heart still racing.

She really wasn't expecting him to pick her up, so it came as a surprise when he did – but she wrapped her legs around his hips and let him carry her to their bed. He set her on the edge of the bed and guided himself into her. Her back arched and she felt a moan escape her lips, despite her claim that she could be quiet, and the sheer bliss of him stretching her so intimately overwhelmed her brain.

It was always like this between them – intense, full of chemistry, wanton lust, even when they were being slow and devoted lovers. It was always lurking below the surface, the sizzling reactions, the need, the desire, the want to share one another's skin and heart and everything. Their lips met, this time in an outright war for dominance and to assert a claim on one another – kisses, love bites on one another's lower lip, tongues dancing and warring against one another as their bodies thrust, moved, came together in ways so familiar.

The pearls pressed between them gave another level of pressure, sensation, texture to their need; Ruth felt one of the pearls rubbing back and forth against her left nipple as he thrust, and the resulting friction made her tumble head-long into the abyss. She came back to herself, whimpering into his mouth, wordless sounds that she couldn't quantify in her mind, couldn't assign a reason for. They were both sweating profusely, adding slip to the friction, and his hands were hard against her hips, holding her still as he pounded into her.

She felt a frisson of pure pleasure up her spine, setting her fingers, toes, and clitoris to tingling. She grabbed at his ass, shifting their angles ever so slightly, and his next thrust hit the sweet spot – she almost blacked out from the force of her orgasm. She vaguely felt him still, thought she might have felt him erupt inside her, but her body had a mind of its own – she was still tingling, shaking, trembling, and his pubic bone resting against her clit was enough to make her come again.

He brushed her hair back out of her face and smiled. "That was…"

She weakly moaned and accepted his tender kiss. "I've never –"

"Me either," he admitted. "It's never been like that. Even between us."

She nodded and kissed him back, releasing her legs from around him so he could pull out. "It was amazing," Ruth whispered. He pulled out and they moved up onto the bed, Ruth settling with her head on his chest, her body curled against his side, his arm wrapped around her waist. It was his favorite place to have her afterward, when they cuddled. It was her favorite place to be, listening to his heart beating as his chest rose and fell. It made her feel safe, wanted, loved in a way that nothing else ever had. This is where she had longed to be for so long: in his arms, oblivious to the world.

"When are you going back to work?" Harry asked softly.

"Day after tomorrow," Ruth murmured. "Ros is quite eager to get me back up to speed. I'm sure there have been a lot of changes."

"Always," Harry said. "Ros is Section Head, Lucas is Section Chief. Dimitri, Beth, Erin, Tariq, and Calum round out the team now. Tariq and Calum are the techies, so you'll need to get in good with them –"

"Mmm, I don't want to think about work yet," Ruth murmured. "Do they know we're married?"

"Only Ros," Harry said. "All of your employment paperwork is still in the name Evershed, since Pearce hadn't legalized till right before Cotterdam."

"So no one knows I'm shagging the boss?" she teased, tickling his side, making him smile.

"Only Ros," he repeated.

"Mmm, good," she sighed softly, tucking her face into his chest. "It helps to know I can have a few special favors up my sleeve."

He chuckled. "Or that I can call you upstairs for a bollocking… while we fuck in my desk chair."

Her eyes opened in shock at the suggestion. "_Harry_!"

"I've had numerous daydreams about you, me, and that chair," Harry growled softly. "Don't disillusion me now."

She exhaled lowly, then murmured, "Wait, if Erin Watts doesn't know we're married, does she just think that I'm your bit of fluff?"

"She knows you entrusted the girls to me while you were away," he said, "and she might suspect more, but she is discrete and hasn't asked any questions."

"Bloody hell," Ruth sighed. "She'll have questions for me, then."

"Probably," Harry acknowledged. "What you tell people about our relationship is your business, Ruth. As DG, I can advise you not to claim me, but… I have to admit that it gives my pride a boost when you say I'm your husband."

She kissed his chest and whispered, "You're my husband, my lover, my everything."

"You're my wife, the most beautiful woman in the world to me, and you're the missing piece of my heart," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Ruth – for being so… closed off."

"It's a hard adjustment," she murmured. "We were apart for so long. Everything changed, not least of all, us."

"Stop being so wise," he grunted. "I know you've been hurting, too."

She closed her eyes again, listening to his heartbeat. "There was a man in Miami – Emile," she said quietly. "He was my neighbor, a nice man, a good man. He knew my legend, knew that I was a widow with a baby, but he wanted to help me come out of my grief. I had to move on because he was so close, and he wanted me so much – I didn't want to have a moment of weakness and betray you. Not ever."

Harry exhaled, and murmured, "There were times… all I wanted was to fuck someone, anyone, pretend for a moment that I was still alive without you. I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"I hate confessions," Ruth whispered. "They make you feel sick and wrong."

"I hated every moment I wasn't with you," Harry breathed. "I'm sorry for pushing you away."

She said, "Stop apologizing."

"If I do it again –"

"Oh, shut up and close your eyes," she murmured. "You're thinking too much."

"I think you should take off the pearls," he said.

She sat up, having forgotten all about the necklace, and took it off, setting it on the bedside table with the noise of hundreds of beads clicking against the wood. "Sorry," she murmured. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to the priceless heirloom." Ruth's voice was teasing, and Harry pulled her back down to the bed for a good snog.

She felt boneless when he was through plundering her mouth, groping her breasts and bum, and she didn't even protest when he kissed his way down her body, stoking her banked fires again. He licked, nibbled, and kissed her into another delicious, hedonistic, pleasure-soaked climax, then held her so close to him that she thought he might try to crawl into her skin with her. "I love you," he rumbled close to her ear, making Ruth shiver from head to toe.

"I love you," she replied, feeling that the 'too' that she could have added was superfluous. It would make it sound like an afterthought, like she only felt it because he did. A simple declaration of her love in just as many words made it sound more earnest, more devoted. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone I was home? Really?"

He exhaled into her hair, his breath hot on the back of her neck as they lay, spooned together, his arm around her waist, her body flush against his. "Because I still think, every day, that I'm going to wake up and find out it was only a dream. That you're not really here. And I'm so scared to lose you again, Ruth. I couldn't bear it if that happened." Hot tears dripped onto her neck, and she closed her eyes, hating that they both felt the same darkness and doubt between them.

"I'm here," she whispered, "and I'm not going anywhere."

The promise echoed in the air around them, both of them hoping the words were truth.

END PART FOURTEEN


	15. Chapter 15

My internet connection was down or I would've already posted this. As is, you'll get two chapters for the price of one!

* * *

><p>Fifteen:<br>Back on the Grid

She was nervous; there was no reason to deny it. Anyone who knew her well enough would be able to see it. Ruth had left Jamie behind with Malcolm, kissing his cheek and promising to be home before bedtime, hoping that her son would enjoy his first day of school. Harry had been finishing up his breakfast when she'd left, taking one of the cars. They already had parking passes assigned to them, specific spots in the Thames House parking structure, so she would be able to use one of Harry's spots. That felt odd, to be honest, but it would just be one of the perks, she guessed, of being married to the DG and working in the same building.

At the garage, she was grilled until she showed them her temporary pass, and then she was let through. Some things never changed. She remembered the daily security sweeps, and was glad she'd only brought a small purse for her first day. She hurried to the front entrance of Thames House and waited in line for her security check.

Damian, one of the security guards, recognized her straight away. "Miss Evershed!" he exclaimed with obvious glee. "Ms. Myers said you'd be coming back to work now you've been cleared – I'm so happy for you." Of course, that was said as her bag was searched and her parking and security passes gone over. "I'm sorry, but this is the DG's parking pass –"

"One of them, yes," Ruth said softly. "Do you need to call someone to confirm it's all right for me to use it?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted.

Ruth sighed and said, "Well… seeing as how we're married, it should be all right. But god knows, security being what it is I know you need to check."

"You're married to Sir Harry Pearce?" Damian croaked.

"Yes," Ruth said mildly. "Have been since before I left, but I never got my name changed till it was almost too late. But, yes, I'm driving his car and using his parking pass unless someone pulls the rug out from under me on that."

Damian nodded and said, "Let me go check the system. Your name should be on the list of authorized users if you're allowed."

Ruth stood there, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, waiting patiently. She was a little annoyed when she saw Harry come in, breeze through security, and be met by his secretary just a few feet away before hustling off to start his day. And yet, she was still stood there, cooling her heels. Bloody hell.

Damian finally came back and said, "You're on the list of authorized users." He smiled a little. "Ms. Myers is on her way down to give you your permanent security pass, and then I can let you through, Lady Pearce."

Ruth shook her finger at him. "Miss Evershed," she corrected. "Till they change my file. If they change my file."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a cheeky grin.

"The last thing I need is a war with Human Resources," Ruth joked lamely.

Ros came off the elevator and strode over, a smile on her face – a genuine smile. "Ruth, I'm glad you're here," she greeted. She showed the security pass to Damian, then handed it over. "We're going to have a briefing in about ten minutes, so let's go so I can show you your desk. A lot has changed since Harry moved to the seventh floor."

Ruth was allowed through the metal detectors at last, and joined Ros on the other side. "I was detained because I used Harry's parking pass," she muttered. "Of all the stupid bloody things –"

Ros's smile grew. "Of course," she said. "The DG can't be seen loaning out his car to just anyone."

Ruth gave her a dirty look. She wasn't sure she liked the teasing Ros instead of the ice queen Ros. It was a bit weird, to be honest, but she was relatively certain the teasing was just because Ros was pleased to see her and pleased to have her back on the team. She knew Ros didn't do sentimentality, so this was the closest she would get to seeing it from her.

They stepped through the pods and several heads turned their way. "Conference room in five," Ros ordered brusquely, all traces of the softer side suddenly obliterated. "Ruth, your desk is over here," she said. "I assumed you'd like to be closer to the tech suite and the forgery suite, rather than spend your time ogling me in my office."

Ruth blushed and gave her an annoyed look. "Yes, Ros, thank you," she said through gritted teeth. "How is Emma, by the way? Did you have a good Christmas?"

Ros shrugged. "Emma is good; she had a lovely Christmas." And that was that. "Make yourself at home – briefing in four."

Erin came over and said, "How's Jamie?"

"He's good," Ruth said, tucking away her purse in the drawer. "He starts school today – I'm upset I couldn't be there to see him off, but what can you do, honestly?" She looked at her bare desk and cringed. "Bloody hell, it looks like no one's ever used the damn desk."

"No one has for a while," Erin replied. "Before he got promoted, Sir Harry always kept a desk open; Ros continued the tradition."

Ruth barely held back tears at that point; Ros didn't do sentimentality, her ass. Andrew Lawrence had reshaped her, clearly, in ways that no one else could have. She looked over at Erin and said, "Ah, well –"

Erin smiled a little. "I know about you and Sir Harry," she murmured, leaning down to speak softly so no one else could hear. "I heard you in the hotel. It's all right – everyone needs some comfort now and then."

Ruth blushed, then said, "It's not what you think –"

"No, I think it's sweet," Erin said. "He was so happy to see you."

"We're married," Ruth exhaled. "Have been for ages now. Please don't tell anyone. I don't want people thinking that's the reason I'm back in Section D – when it's simply not true."

Erin repeated, "I already know, Ruth. It's all right. No one will think any less of you for having married a grumpy old man." The last phrase was teasing, and she winked. "We better get in there before Ros gets pissy."

"Right," Ruth said, getting up. "The last thing we need is Ros being Ros."

"Truer words have never been spoken," Erin agreed.

Everyone filtered into the conference room, where Ros was already sat at the head of the table. She gestured for Ruth to take the foot of the table, with everyone else between them. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you've all heard tell of the legendary Ruth Evershed," Ros began. "She has returned to MI-5 after an absence of over four years, and has agreed to come back to Section D. Ruth is of the old guard, and has many ideas that work around our current guidelines within the services. You'll want to see her to learn a few pointers." Ros glowered at Lucas. "Especially you, Mr. North. Your leaping before looking approach is going to cost us more equipment and lives than this department can spare at the moment."

Ruth hid a smile, then said, "Thank you for your confidence, Ros, but I'd like to just take the time to fit into the new team on my own for now."

"You're really_ the_ Ruth Evershed?" one of the men inquired.

"I am," she acknowledged.

"I was expecting… a bit of flash and glam, the way everyone talks about you," he said, disappointed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. …"

"Calum. Reid. Call me Calum."

"Mr. Reid," Ruth said pointedly, "I'm so very sorry I don't fit your idea of what a desk spook is meant to look like. I'll try ever so much harder," she added sarcastically, idly twisting her new wedding band around her finger, wishing Harry was here to put the children in their place.

Lucas and Erin hold back amused smiles. Calum looked well and truly in his place, then.

Lucas points at the others in turn, and says, "Dimitri, Beth, Tariq, Erin, and I'm Lucas. Welcome back to the team, Ruth."

Ros clears her throat, and said, "Since the holiday, we've had no real threats, so there's plenty of time to catch up on your side work and paperwork. Ruth, I'll put you and Erin onto reorganizing our permanent Registry files."

"Oh," Erin said, "you shouldn't have, Ros." The sarcasm was thick enough to be cut with a knife.

Tariq held up his hand like a school lad, and said, "I don't mind doing that, if Erin wants to catalogue the sound recordings I've been adding to the database."

"Oh, for god's sake – just get some work done," Ros sighed. "The holidays have made you all go batty."

Ruth smiled a bit at Ros's annoyance. "Yes, ma'am," she agreed cheerfully. "I don't suppose you kept my mug when you kept my desk open –"

"Bottom drawer on the left," Ros said, "along with your desk toys and the photos of your kids."

"You have kids?" Beth said.

Ruth laughed and waited for Ros's signal that the briefing was over before she retreated to her desk and set things up the way they had been. Harry had been good to her, keeping her things like that, when by rights, he should have taken them home. It showed a kind of misplaced faith, really, a faith that she would come home no matter what circumstances dictated.

It was sweet – and more than slightly naïve on his part.

She put up the photographs, resolving to remove the old ones and put up a single photo of them as a family as soon as possible. And her tea mug, the fugly one that was shaped like the Tardis that Rose and Daisy had given her for her birthday the year she'd been forced into exile, was happily back on the desktop. She smiled and logged into the computer.

She'd been working for all of ten minutes when the phone rang. "Hello?" Ruth said cautiously.

"Fifteen minutes, my office," Harry said. "I've got you penciled in for half an hour."

"But I'm working right now. You can't just –"

"I can," he said firmly. "Fifteen minutes, Ruth."

"All right," she finally agreed. "All right. I'll be there." She hung up the phone and got a funny look from Calum at his desk next door. "Sorry, that was HR," she lied smoothly. "I've apparently got more forms to fill out. Shouldn't take more than an hour."

"Ugh, forms," Tariq said, wrinkling his nose. "They got my name wrong six times. It's not that difficult, really, but six times? I like to have never got my paycheck properly."

Ruth chuckled. "Yeah, on my secondment forms, they had my middle name wrong," she said. "Caused all kinds of havoc with things. Thank god I've not yet tried to change everything to my husband's name – the system would probably explode," she joked lamely.

"So you're married," Calum said with interest.

"I don't wear a wedding band for shits and giggles," Ruth replied caustically.

"Your husband in the Service?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" she shot back.

"Well, no, but very few people actually get what we do – makes it hard to have a relationship."

"I've got three kids," Ruth snapped. "I think we manage just fine." She got up, got her ID, and left the Grid before he could stick his foot in it any further.

She took the elevator up to the seventh floor, and marched past all those with a vested interest in watching her, coming to a halt by the large desk outside the DG's office. Hermione looked up with a small smile. "Miss Evershed," she greeted, "he's almost done with his call."

Ruth looked her up and down, banishing all thoughts of Harry wanting to possibly bed her in a moment. She was kind of like the perfect little grandmum, and Harry had fantasies of fucking Ruth in his desk chair – not his secretary. She just kept remembering that, and felt a little bit better about herself.

The door opened, and Harry stepped out of his office. "Hermione, can you make sure that Alex makes it up from Section A before lunchtime? I've got a wad of paperwork for him from the Home Office."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Yes, Sir Harry," she said politely. "Ruth Evershed is here to see you."

Harry gave his assistant a stern look. "I can see that. Make sure Ianto brings us two teas as I specified earlier – at the end of our meeting. Miss Evershed and I are not to be interrupted for the next half hour; take messages in priority of urgency. Thank you, Hermione," he added, as if he was afraid of sounding too stern. "Ruth?" he prompted, holding the door open and gesturing for her to follow him.

Once the door was closed and quietly locked behind him, he said, "There's no CCTV in here. There are audio bugs, but I called down discretely and had them disabled. I wanted to have privacy."

"Oh," Ruth murmured. "Because you want to have sex with me in your office."

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "No, because I need to speak to you about a concern we have within Section D," Harry muttered. "Ros brought it to my attention this morning, and I'm inclined to agree with her. Lucas North has been acting oddly – well, more oddly than usual – the last few weeks. I'm going to ask you to do something incredibly difficult for me…"

"You want me to monitor his activities on and off the Grid," Ruth interjected. "Fine. Done. That's easy enough, Harry – doesn't take a half an hour to ask me to do that."

Harry's ears turned pink. "Ah, yes, well…"

She smiled at him indulgently. "Yes, dear, I remember you telling me about your chair fantasy," she murmured.

He exhaled and said, "Oh, thank god. I thought you thought I'd gone mad –"

"It's a good chair," she said. "Looks sturdy from here." Ruth paused. "And we have privacy for the next… oh… twenty-five minutes or so."

His nervous demeanor melted away and he smiled. "Ruth, are you certain you want to –"

"Bloody hell, Harry, they've got me organizing Registry files down there," she sighed. "Of course I want to make love to you so I have something to remember to escape the tedious boredom while I figure out how best to track Lucas without him knowing. Bloody hell, get with it, old man."

He started to laugh, and pulled her close for a kiss. "I bloody love you, Ruth," he whispered.

"Well, I bloody love you, too – but I'd love you more if you'd get your pants down already," she huffed. She was actually more nervous about getting caught than he was – she had far more to lose than he did. If they got caught, he'd just get a pat on the head because she was his wife. She'd likely get fired for boffing the boss at work.

He laughed and led her across the room to his desk, taking a seat on the chair. "I daydream about you coming in here, walking over seductively, and just straddling me – a woman on a mission…"

She gave him an annoyed look. "Ah, well, you're going to get the intimidated Ruth who isn't sure she should be doing this on her first day back at work," she muttered. "I told Calum that HR needed me."

"The DG needs you," Harry replied, waggling his eyebrows and trying not to smile. "I'm rather afraid that trumps bloody Deborah Langham."

She flushed and said, "Well, we better get on with it –" Without preamble, she hiked her long skirt up and pulled off her boots, then her tights, and lastly, her knickers. By the time she was barefoot, Harry was flushed and hard, already fumbling with his trousers. She tried not to think about how it would look to other people, and instead focused on how important it was for them to take the time to be together like this. He didn't take rearranging his schedule lightly; this was important to him.

She chuckled and murmured, "If the DG needs me, the DG needs me – who am I to turn the great Harry Pearce down?"

"Ruth, get over here," Harry croaked, finally getting his pants and trousers down around his knees. "We don't have much time."

She stifled a laugh. "Harry, you're the Director General – we have more time than you think."

The panicked look on his face proved to her that he was just as nervous about it as she was. "Ruth, just… please," Harry insisted.

Luckily for him, she was eager as he was – they'd been about to make love that morning when he'd had to take an emergency call. So, yes, fifteen or twenty minutes of desperate fumbling and fucking in his office was going to have to do. She straddled his lap and kissed him deeply, hiking her skirt up around her hips and thighs, attempting to cover them.

He fondled her breasts through her cardigan and the blouse beneath, and she whimpered, pulling out of the kiss to whisper a few words in broken French in his ear – words of love, lust, and need. He brought her back into the desperate kiss, his hands finding her bum and repositioning her gently so she wasn't squashing things that weren't meant to be squished.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he exhaled deeply, a low moan escaping him when she lifted up and directed him inside her. She, however, bit her lip and closed her eyes, trying not to make a sound – afraid that Hermione would hear them outside at her desk. Her heart thundered in her ears, panicked, racing like a rabbit's, but the way Harry looked at her when he opened his eyes swept all her fears about being caught straight away.

They kissed and caressed one another, moving slowly at first, then faster and faster, till they both crashed over the edge, lips and tongues swallowing each other's cries of pleasure. It was fast, it was illicit, it was downright dirty when she thought about it – but, oh, it was so good. He was so good. They were so good together.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and pulled away from him, getting up and rushing to get dressed again. "Five minutes till tea," Ruth said sharply. "Get your trousers up."

He gave her a Look. "Bloody hell, you're bossy," Harry muttered, a smile on his lips as he watched her get her tights back on. "You're also bloody sexy as hell. I'm going to have to make time for lunch every day –"

She blushed and said, "Don't you dare, Harry."

He stood up and got redressed, and she was glad that he didn't look like they'd been doing _that_… She was also glad of the air fresheners set around the room. She knew it was because Harry liked egg salad with pickled onion for lunch, and that could stink up a room much smaller than this. But it would also help cover up their musky sex odors as well.

He crossed to the door and unturned the lock as she finished pulling on her boots. "Of course, Miss Evershed," Harry said as he opened the door, "this matter is of the utmost importance and your discretion is quite important. Hermione, has Ianto brought the teas yet? Bloody hell, that boy is always taking his damn time."

Ruth licked her lips she joined Harry and Hermione by the outer desk. "Just a reminder, you have a meeting with the JIC at four, and several Home Office meetings before noon," Hermione said. "The Home Secretary has moved your daily to seven, and it should be done in time to get you home by nine."

Harry grimaced. "Oh, an early night, then?" he spat. He looked at Ruth. "See what I have to put up with while you sort out your Registry files? Late tea, meetings at all hours of the day and bloody night, and – what are you laughing at?"

"You," Ruth said softly, unable to control her giggling any longer. She strode up to him and gave him a gentle kiss. "You poor, poor man."

Hermione gasped. "Sir Harry –"

"Ruth, I think you just –"

"I did just," Ruth replied sweetly. "Hermione, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Ruth Pearce. The Evershed is just for HR. They go mad when you try to change things."

Hermione stammered a bit, then said, "Lady Pearce, I'm sorry if I – caused you any offense –"

"None at all," Ruth said mildly. "Harry, love, thank you for wishing me a good first day back. I think I'll go downstairs and get back to sorting files." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you tonight – around nine?"

"Around nine," Harry confirmed as a young man came up with two cups of tea in hand. "Ianto, you're bloody late, as usual!"

"Sorry, sir," Ianto apologized. "There was a queue for the kettle again."

"So get another kettle," Harry said in a dry voice, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ruth, Ianto – Ianto, Ruth," he introduced.

"Yours must be the splash of milk, no sugar," Ianto said with a small smile. "Sir Harry likes –"

"Sugar strong enough to hold up the spoon, yes," Ruth said, accepting the mug. "You're friends with my Rose, then?"

"Yes – she's the one that got me the job," Ianto said with a smile. "It's just tea and sandwiches and some filing, but –"

"And don't you have some filing to be doing?" Harry prompted.

"Ah, yes," Ianto said. He turned back to Ruth. "Nice to meet you, ma'am," he commented, before he took off.

"I think they'll be expecting you back on the Grid, Ruth," Harry said softly. "I'll see you tonight."

She smiled a little, then said, "By the way, I like that you kept your promise to Kelly and put that bloody awful toy on your desk."

"It's what a good grandpa does," Harry said with a wink. He gave her a quick kiss, then disappeared back into his office with Hermione, talking about the upcoming meetings with the flummoxed secretary.

Ruth went back downstairs to the Grid and slid behind her desk. She glanced around, and Calum caught her eye. "How was the esteemed Deborah Langham?" he asked.

"Bloody scary as usual," Ruth replied sweetly. "Some things never change." She began to type, creating a new Registry legend for the organization. She knew the standards would have slipped without her and Malcolm there to police the alphabetical order. Bloody child spooks barely out of school and still couldn't spell worth a damn.

She glanced up to see Ros watching her through her office window, and Ruth merely inclined her head to answer the unasked question to the affirmative. Ros smiled slightly and nodded, then went back to what she was doing.

END PART FIFTEEN


	16. Chapter 16

Sixteen:  
>New Year's<p>

Ruth came downstairs slowly, careful not to tread on the hem of her new gown. Harry's face lit up with delight when she came into his view, and he said, "My god, where on earth did you find that dress?"

"Rose found it," Ruth said, "in a vintage shop down in SoHo. Bought it for a song – thirty pounds fifty." She got to the bottom of the steps and twirled a bit, the iridescent maroon satin swishing around her. "Here I was thinking I'd have to buy something off the rack and ten times as much –"

He grabbed her gloved hands and pulled her close for a kiss. "You look amazing," he whispered.

"It's from 1936," she replied.

"I don't care," he said. "You look bloody gorgeous and I have half a mind to cart you back upstairs and not let you out of the bedroom."

Jamie trotted out into the foyer and said, "Oh, mummy, you look pretty! Daddy, you look handsome! Are you going to a party?"

"We are," Harry acknowledged. "Are you going to behave for Uncle Malcolm and Daisy?"

Jamie nodded and said, "We're going to tell stories."

"Good," Ruth murmured. "You'll have lots of fun."

Jamie beamed at her with a happy innocence that she wished he could keep forever. "I love you, mummy," he said. "And I love you, too, daddy." He rushed over and gave them both hugs.

"We need to go," Harry said softly near Ruth's ear. She nodded and he went to get her dress coat – a long, beautiful black velvet coat with a dark grey woolen lining. He helped her into it and she got her clutch, hoping that her elegant attire wouldn't be too much for the party. Harry was looking rather debonair in his tails and white bow tie, so she doubted that she was overdressed.

They were picked up by Mike, Harry's regular Service driver, in a rather flashy Rolls. Harry smiled over at her in the back seat and took her hand in his. "You look magnificent," he commented softly. "The pearls suit you very much."

She blushed and murmured, "You have a rather intimate knowledge of how well they suit me."

He leaned over and whispered against the shell of her ear, "I can't wait to take you home and get everything off you but the pearls."

"Behave," she whispered back, accepting his gentle kiss. She was glad she'd used the 24 hour lipcolor, as nothing came off on him. It would have been very difficult to explain to the queen why he was sporting dark red lipstick as an accessory to his tails.

"I am behaving," Harry said cheerfully. "I'm behaving badly." He gave her a wolfish smile.

"You are," she agreed.

"By the way, Hermione and Ianto haven't told anyone about your visit to my office the other day," he commented lightly. "So our secret is still safe."

"Erin knows."

"Yes, I figured she might…" He paused. "You know, after tonight, the world will know about us."

She sighed and murmured, "I know. I'm not exactly looking forward to the gossip around the water cooler tomorrow. Dimitri has been flirting with me quite a bit since I came on to work. I think he's going to be sorely disappointed to be outmanned."

"Have you been flirting back?" Harry asked, his voice suddenly irritated.

"No," she assured him softly. "I'm happy with you. Why would I lead someone else on like that when I love you?"

He kissed her again, this time jealously, possessively. "No one touches my wife," he whispered. "No one."

She blinked at him and said, "And what if I want to touch myself, then? Hmm? Going to remove my hand for me, Sir Harry?"

He grunted. "That's different."

Ruth sighed and rolled her eyes. "Of course it is," she said.

"Can we not fight about this? God knows Section D is handling security for the event – you're going to have to deal with him tomorrow anyway," he huffed. "So let me have my night of being possessive."

"You are always possessive," she muttered. "Behave yourself for once, please. Don't embarrass yourself in front of the Queen, for god's sake, Harry."

He rolled his eyes. "I won't," he said pointedly, "but don't go seeking out –"

"Do you trust me or not?" Ruth asked. "We've been married for years, and most of that time, we've been apart. Do you trust me?"

He paused. "With my life." The words were soft, full of import. She knew he didn't trust anyone that far, far enough to save him when the end came.

She held his hand and whispered, "Then please behave like a gentleman. There is no reason for you to worry about me finding someone else attractive, Harry. I love you. I want to be with you. I have children with you; I snuck into your bloody office to fuck you. Please trust me now."

"I do," he said quietly. "I just don't trust anyone else."

Ruth turned him toward her and gave him a gentle, soft kiss. "I am Lady Ruth Pearce," she whispered, "and tonight, I am the glamorous wife you've always wanted me to be. Trust me. Trust us, Harry." She kissed him again, hoping to assuage his fears – even just a little bit.

By the time they arrived at the Palace, he was much calmer, and the irritation had left his face. She, on the other hand, was a bit nervous. Once they were through security, the rest of Section D would be mingling as party guests. They would see everything. Ros, of course, had known that Ruth would be there as an actual guest, and had gently told her not to wear a wire, because she wouldn't be on duty as anything but the wife of the DG.

That almost made it worse: she wouldn't be able to hear the snide comments from her teammates. She wouldn't know what to expect in the morning.

They dropped their coats at the cloakroom, and Ruth secreted away the ticket in her clutch. They went through security without a hitch, and joined the line of dignitaries being announced one by one, as protocol dictated.

Finally, it was their turn. "Sir Henry and Lady Ruth Pearce," was announced, and he led her into the ballroom on his arm.

"Bloody hell, I hate being called Henry," he muttered under his breath.

Ruth glanced around the room and her eyes alit on Ros, who tipped her glass of champagne in Ruth's direction with a cheekily smug smile, as if to say, "You married the old codger. Now you get all the embarrassment of living with it."

Ruth, for her part, straightened her spine and tried to carry herself as regally as possible. She was the wife of a Knight of the Realm, she was wearing millions of dollars in jewelry, and she was bloody well going to look the part, even if she just felt like plain old Ruth.

Harry led her to the reception line where they waited patiently to pay their respects to their hosts, the Royal Family. They were greeted enthusiastically, and the Queen even said, "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Lady Pearce. Your travels have seen you well?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ruth said softly, smiling. "Quite well. Thank you for the invitation; I'm having a lovely time."

"I see that Sir Harry's want of the pearls was of a practical nature," the Queen commented in a teasing tone. "They are quite lovely on you, Lady Pearce."

And with that, they were dismissed to enjoy the rest of the party.

They mingled, Harry introducing her to politicians and their wives and husbands, Ministers and their spouses, the Prime Minister, Foreign and Home Secretaries, and many of the upper crust of the elite of the country. Ruth's head was swimming with how at ease Harry was with all of this, but then again, he'd had several years to get used to playing the game. She'd just been dumped in the deep end and left to founder – aside from Harry, who acted like a buoy, holding her above water.

Dimitri sidled up to them with Beth on his arm. "Sir Harry, Lady Pearce," Dimitri greeted coolly. "All is green at the moment. There are testers in the kitchen, screening the dinner plates as we speak."

"Mr. Levi, Miss Barker, I don't believe you've met my lovely wife," Harry said for the benefit of those passing around them. "Ruth, this is Daniel Levi and Emma Barker. They work for the Home Secretary." He lowered his voice and said, "Thank you – keep up the good work."

Ruth just sighed softly and allowed herself to be led to the dance floor. Harry was an excellent dancer, and he always put her to shame. So this would be absolute torture…

Except it wasn't that bad. He held her close, guided her through the steps, and was her charming, ever-devoted, loving husband. He whispered, "I love you, Ruth. So much more than I can say. Thank you for accompanying me tonight."

"Where else would I be?" Ruth murmured, twining her fingers with his possessively. "I love you, Harry."

* * *

><p>The instant Ruth stepped onto the Grid, everything fell silent. Erin was the first to speak. "Your dress last night was lovely, Ruth – you'll have to tell me where you got it," she said enthusiastically. "It was quite classic."<p>

"Actually," Ruth said, "my daughter found it in Soho at a vintage shop."

Another silence fell, then Tariq said, "So… you're shagging the DG, then?"

"I am not _shagging_ the DG," Ruth said, already exasperated as she sat down at her desk. "I will admit to being married to Harry Pearce, and that we do share a bed and have a rather active love life, but I draw the line at _shagging_."

"Too much information," Beth sighed.

Ros came out of her office and said, "Don't you all have better things to be doing than harassing Ruth about her home life?"

"Why didn't you just tell us?" Lucas finally asked. "That you're married to Harry Pearce, I mean."

"Because," Ruth said, "I don't trust you. I trust Ros, and I trust Erin – but those trusts have been earned. My family life is precious to me, and I will not allow it to be exposed willingly to any kind of danger."

She looked over pointedly at Lucas, hoping he would heed her warning. The things she'd already gathered on him were enough to turn Section D upside down, but she needed more. She needed proof, not just coincidental evidence.

Little things always added up to much larger things. She was just meant to nitpick until they came together as a puzzle.

So far, all she knew was that he was not what he seemed, and his behavior was cause for concern.

He looked away from her, and she exhaled, closing her eyes for a brief moment before opening them and beginning to work.

END PART SIXTEEN


	17. Chapter 17

Seventeen:  
>Breaking Point<p>

It warmed up a bit and the first spring flowers began to poke through the winter permafrost. Ruth was happy, buoyant almost, when Jamie brought her the first crocus from the garden and blathered on and on about flowers and daffodils.

Life went on around them, and Ruth's prying into Lucas's life had yielded not much more than they'd had to begin with. Either she was rusty or he was just better at hiding things than she was at uncovering them. Either way, they were at an impasse; they tried to be friendly, but he clearly sensed danger and had gone a bit to ground.

Ruth and Harry, however, plunged onward into blissful oblivion. They were even closer on a fundamental, primal level than they'd ever been before. The vaguest touch meant more to them than a kiss, a quick shag, or even a long cuddle. It was like they had been on the Grid before she'd been forced to leave; an understanding of the darker side of things, but a comfort in the darkness when they needed one.

The grandchildren spent more time with them now; Sundays were specifically set aside as family time. Everyone would come over for an afternoon of fun and games, and Ruth and Harry would work together to cook Sunday supper. It was usually pasta; no one was complaining, though.

Rose got a job working in a shop; Daisy broke up with her boyfriend. Jamie learned to climb up on the uppermost part of the roof from the attic and scared the life out of Malcolm and his parents. Malcolm and Elizabeth decided on a long engagement and Elizabeth spent every other weekend with them, carefully working at cultivating Ruth's trust and love again. Catherine accepted the job of making the new recruitment video for MI-5, as well as several other minor videos like the sexual harassment video and the 'what to do when you're on fire after an explosion has rocked central London and Sir Harry Pearce is giving you a bollocking over the phone' video.

The wheels of time crept forward exonerably.

The day that Ros sent her into QMK Technologies as a translator, the day Ruth was caught amidst the Chinese and the CIA, barely with backup, she was sore, bloodied, and sick to her stomach about losing Dr. Chang to the Chinese. She felt like the worst possible spook – the one who had to admit failure in the face of everything. Ruth winced as she sat gingerly at her desk, trying not to look anyone in the eye. Ros had already assured her that she'd followed all of the protocols and that she had done as well as anyone would have, but Ruth could feel the faint damning in her praise.

Ten minutes till five, the pods hissed open and Harry burst onto the Grid. "Rosalind, a word," he said in a furiously cold tone, all but dragging Ros into his former office. The door slid shut and the shouting match began.

Ruth went into the kitchenette and made herself a cup of tea, trying to avoid everything. Unfortunately, Dimitri followed her. "You could have –"

"Don't," Ruth said, holding her hand up. "Don't tell me what I could and should have done, all right? There's a reason I'm not a field officer. I am a desk spook. I did the best I could, Dimitri."

"You could have been killed," he finished. "You should have gotten out when you were ordered to. You're not like the rest of us: you have a family, people who rely on you."

She glowered at him, eyes narrowed over the edge of her mug. "You want to protect me because I have a family?" Ruth scoffed. "No, I'm sure you want to cover your arse because I'm the Director General's wife. Isn't that it?"

Dimitri sighed and said, "Believe what you like, Ruth."

Harry appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Levendis, I would like to thank you for the speed with which you, Lucas, and Beth responded to my wife's aid this morning," he said in a calm, measured tone. "Ruth, we're going home."

"I have work to do," Ruth said, finishing her tea with a swig. "As do you." She winced slightly as the cut on her lip – the bruise on her jaw – ached from the movement.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain you want to make a public spectacle over this?" he asked in a no-nonsense tone that rankled and got beneath her collar. "You hit your head on a patch of concrete, Ruth. You should never have come back to the office."

Ruth knew she would never win, so she gave up the fight. "Fine," she muttered.

"And I've spoken to Ros about using you in the field –"

"Harry, I am not a child!" she exploded. "This is my job – I do my job, whatever is asked of me. You know that; and you do not get to dictate whether or not I am put into a dangerous situation."

"Do you think this is a game?" Harry hissed angrily.

"No – do you?" she shot back. "Do you honestly think you can sit up on the seventh floor and move us around like pawns without consequences, Harry? Have you forgotten what it feels like to be the one on the ground, making the decisions you have to make to survive? Have you forgotten the adrenaline and the danger and the way you feel afterward when it all wears off?"

He closed the gap between them very quickly and Dimitri tried to move between him and Ruth. Harry swatted him away and merely grasped her jaw very gently, examining the bruising and her cuts. "No," he sighed, "I haven't, and I cannot abide that Ros put you into that kind of danger without adequate training or forewarning."

"It was my choice," Ruth said softly as his thumb caressed her lower lip. "I speak Mandarin – they needed someone who did."

"Please come home with me," he insisted. "You need to rest."

"Harry, you can't just sweep in here and act like my husband," Ruth said firmly. "We're both still at work –"

"Medical recommended you go home hours ago," Harry said in an equally firm tone. "So don't you tell me how to act, Ruth. We are going home, now. Get your things. Mike will drive us."

"You're the DG – you have meetings and you can't just swan off because I hit my head and got a bloody lip," she said, irritation waxing.

"I cancelled everything that wasn't important," he said, "because my wife was injured in an operation and is a bloody stubborn _MULE_ and won't go home and sleep. The fact that I'm going to have to carry you to bed and tie you to it in order to make you rest is beside the point. The point of fact is this: I need officers beneath me who know their limits and know when to quit. You do not; you will be taught a lesson."

Dimitri cleared his throat. "Sir, if I might?"

Harry grunted a response that neither of them really caught.

Dimitri said, "There's not much you can do right now, Ruth. Everyone else is working hard at tracking Dr. Chang and the team that took her. Go home and rest."

Ros spoke up from the doorway. "Yes," she said. "Go home and rest. I need you fresh in the morning, after we've had time to filter the information and all that's left is the dregs. That and Sir Harry is unbelievably cross at me for allowing you to be put into danger – so I'd rather he take you home and put you to bed than continue raving at me like a bloody nutter."

Ruth huffed. She was annoyed, nay – furious – at the double standard. Lucas was expected to come straight back to the Grid and continue on like nothing was wrong even after he'd been injected with some bloody poison or another, but because she was married to Harry, she was getting sent home? It wasn't bloody fair, and it smacked of favoritism.

"Ruth," Harry said, his voice softening from the imperious Director General's shout to her tender, loving husband's imploring, "please come home with me. We'll order in a Chinese, watch a movie with Jamie, and pretend like today didn't happen. You were very nearly killed on my watch and it makes me sick to think about it; let me take you home, my love. Please."

She didn't want to give in, but her head was pounding – and the idea of putting her feet up and taking a painkiller made her feel like her point was absolutely not worth sticking to at the moment. "Oh, bloody hell," Ruth sighed irritably. "_FINE_. Fine, Harry. You're getting your way; I'm going home, you insufferable arsehole."

She stormed past him, past Ros, out to her desk to gather her things. Several of the other members of the team watched her surreptitiously and she shot them annoyed glares. If they thought she was being held to a different standard, what hope was there of ever fitting in?

Harry came over and put his hand on the small of her back; she pulled away and muttered, "Don't bloody touch me. You're getting your way after throwing the best tantrum; don't expect me to like it."

He sighed and murmured, "Ruth, I'm just concerned – you rattled your brain, clearly, when you hit your head."

"Oh, stop it," she muttered. "Just… stop. Please. And you're not sleeping with me tonight, so you can take your pillow to the spare room when we get home."

"What spare room?" Harry challenged. "Our whole damn house is full now –"

"Fine, you can sleep on the bloody couch or the floor in Jamie's room or in the dog's house – I don't give a damn!" Ruth said. "But you are not sleeping in the same bed as me, not after this petty display of chauvinistic idiocy!"

"Ruth, GO HOME," Ros insisted.

"Yes, please," Tariq added. "I didn't need to know about your sleeping arrangements. I don't think anyone did, really."

Ruth looked around the Grid at the concerned glances, and she whacked Harry soundly with her purse. "I'm very cross with you," she hissed.

"Be cross with me," Ros said. "I called Harry downstairs since you decided to disregard doctor's orders."

Ruth smacked him again with her purse. "We will discuss this in the car," she hissed.

"I'm certain we will," Harry sighed.

This time, when he put his arm around her protectively, she shrugged it off. But when he did it again, undeterred, she scowled and allowed it. If he was going to be an ass about things, she couldn't keep fighting him off in all of his possessiveness. She would wear herself out doing that, and he would never get the point that way, would he?

Once in the car and on the road, she turned to look at him, cold fury bubbling in her veins. "You can't just do that," Ruth said icily.

"Do what?"

"You're the boss," she reminded him archly. "You're the bloody Big Mack Daddy Spook, Harry. You cannot, must not, be seen to take more interest in any one member of any one team than in the organization as a whole. Favoritism cannot be allowed –"

"Oh, shut up," Harry grunted. "You've used your words, now hear mine. I love you, Ruth. I had no idea – none at all – that Ros had involved you in the Chinese affair. If I had any idea of that, I would have stopped her before you had even left the building. You are not a pawn, and you are not a field officer. You were almost killed today, and I cannot allow that to stand." He gently touched her face, where the bruise was creeping up to her cheek. "There are a few perks in my job, and one of them is being allowed to terrify the hell out of my Section Heads when they do stupid shit. Ros knows she's not to use you off the Grid for any reason whatsoever and –"

"Harry, you cannot dictate what my job is!" Ruth snarled. His touch was hurting her; her head was aching and her stomach churning. "I was needed today –"

He kissed her, then, a full-on desperate kiss that shocked her. "You're hurt," he whispered. "You could have died, Ruth. I need you more than anyone else in Thames House. Do you understand? I cannot and will not allow you to be sent into the field needlessly."

"It wasn't needlessly," she whispered.

"They could've called another section and gotten someone who spoke Mandarin – don't tell me you didn't jump at the chance," he said, looking hurt. "Ruth, you don't understand –"

"I do understand."

"You were unconscious for ten minutes," he said sharply. "And you rushed back to the Grid like you were perfectly all right –"

"Harry, I'm fine – it's just a headache," she sighed. "You're being an overprotective bear! Stop it! I was totally all right by myself for four years, you stupid old git, and I can handle it myself!"

He knew she was going to be sick before she did; "Pull over," he ordered Mike, and got the door open so Ruth could vomit in the gutter. He held her hair back, whispering soothing words of love as she heaved her guts up onto the Westminster street. "It's all right," he whispered. "You just need to rest and stop shouting."

"You can't just do this every time I bump my head," Ruth mumbled when she was through and they were on their way again.

"Just watch me," Harry said firmly.

* * *

><p>Ruth looked up and said, "Lucas? Do you know Stephen Owen from Section G?"<p>

He frowned. "No – why?"

"He's been arrested. Crashed the mainframe and diverted twenty-four thousand pounds out of one of our slush funds into his personal bank account."

"That shouldn't be possible," Lucas said. "Is it?"

She contemplated his choice of verbage; she knew Stephen Owen wasn't technically capable of doing it, but someone else could easily have done. Lucas's casually dismissive tone flipped a switch in her brain, and she saw him clearly for the first time. She knew there was danger in this, far more than Harry and Ros would ever give her credit for handling, but she had to push him until he stepped into the light.

"His user ID and password were logged at the time of the crash," she said. She was going to give him an out – a compassionate way to come clean. "He's only twenty-two. He'll serve hard time for that."

Lucas was dismissive, and said, "A traitor is a traitor."

In that moment, she felt properly afraid of him, what he was capable of. What they were all capable of doing when pushed.

It was truly terrifying.

END PART SEVENTEEN


	18. Chapter 18

Eighteen:  
>The Scales of Deprivation<p>

She paused in Ros's doorway. "Ros, we need to talk," Ruth said very quietly. She didn't give Ros an option, merely stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "He is not Lucas North. There's an old file photo from the initial interview with Lucas North – and it's not him," she said quickly. "I don't have a bloody clue who that man is, or where the real Lucas North is."

"You're sure about this?" Ros asked.

"More certain about anything than I've ever been in my life," Ruth said. She paused, trying to figure out what to say to give a greater sense of import. "I'm more sure about this than loving Harry, Ros."

"He's been on our side, whoever he is…"

"Until now," Ruth said. "He's accessed a secure file on the network called Albany –"

Ros blanched; went properly pale and grey. "Oh shit," she exhaled. "Shit. No. We have to find him and detain him –"

"Yeah, good luck with that," Ruth said scornfully. "He's disappeared. He found my trackers and destroyed them."

"His secure phone –"

"SIM card's been destroyed," Ruth interjected. "We need to tell Harry. I had no idea at the speed this would careen to when it catapulted out of control."

"We need to get extra security on your family and mine," Ros said sharply. "Harry and I both know the location of the proper Albany file. This man, whoever he is, will try to use whatever leverage he can in order to make us disclose the location."

"What is so important about this file?" Ruth asked. "This file above all others he could have sold us out for?"

"Albany is a weapon of mass casualty," Ros said. "A weapon that locks onto specific DNA patterns. It is a bioengineered genetic weapon, Ruth, and in the wrong hands…"

Ruth stared at her for a long moment. "Are you bloody fucking kidding? This is the real world, not Star Trek, Ros –"

"I'm not kidding," Ros said, her voice low and very quiet. "And whatever he sold us out for… it has to be huge. Money, sex, luxury? I don't know, but it makes him a very dangerous man. He knows our methods and won't hesitate to use them against us."

Ruth hesitated, then nodded. "I need to go upstairs and brief Harry," she said quietly.

"No," Ros said firmly. "You need to go home – take Tariq and make sure he puts all of the current upgrades into place. Send your kids away for the week. Send them to their grandparents'."

"Oh, right," Ruth scoffed. "Because he can't just hack my file and get my mum's address or my in-law's or anything – Ros, what are you going to do about Emma?"

"I'm going to brief Harry, and then I'm bringing Emma and her nanny onto the Grid," Ros said quietly. "They'll be safer here. I can lock it down if need be."

Ruth hesitated, then said, "Yes, that's a good idea. Maybe I should bring the kids here – Malcolm would be good to help with Emma, maybe?"

Ros was about to reply when Ruth's phone began to trill. She grabbed it and said, "Hello?"

"Ruth, it's me," Malcolm said. "I've just been round the school to collect Jamie like usual… he's not here. Harry didn't just forget to tell me Catherine was picking him up today, did he?"

All the blood drained from Ruth's face and she said, "No, not that I know of, Malcolm – I'll call her, though. I'll call you back." She looked at Ros and said, "He's got Jamie. The son of a bitch has my son."

Ros reached over and grabbed Ruth's hand. "Stay calm," she said.

"_Stay calm_? _STAY CALM_?" Ruth repeated in disbelief, her voice rising to an untempered shout that brought Erin and Dimitri running. "My son has been abducted and you want me to _STAY CALM_?"

"Jamie's gone?" Erin said, her eyes going wide. "Ruth –"

"Erin, you and Dimitri go to the Pearce's. Get Rose and Daisy and bring them here. I will call on another section to put eyes on Harry's other children," Ros said sharply. "Get Beth to go to mine and bring Emma and Gwen here."

"What about Lucas?" Dimitri said.

"Lucas is the one that bloody has my son!" Ruth exploded, her worry and panic beginning to overwhelm her reason.

"Just do it," Ros ordered. "Ruth and I need to go brief Harry, because he's going to go literally ballistic and call in CO19 to deal with Lucas and that's the last thing we need."

Erin nodded and said, "Ruth, we will find him – "

Ruth pushed everything back and felt a searing pain in her chest. "Yes, we will," she said, her words hollow with certainty that they would find him dead. The pain grew worse and she whispered, "We need to brief Harry. Now."

Ros nodded and moved for the door, Ruth right behind her. The elevator moved far too slowly, the moments it took to walk across the floor to Harry's office were too long…

Hermione said, "I'm sorry, Sir Harry is in a meeting –"

"His son has been abducted from his school," Ros said coldly. "The meeting is over, Hermione."

"Oh no," Hermione choked out, looking at Ruth with pity. Ruth wanted to punch her in the face.

Hermione opened the door and Harry glanced up, holding up one finger. "Yes, Prime Minister, I am aware –" Harry was saying. "Could you hold for one moment? There seems to be an issue –"

Ros pushed past Hermione and said, "The man we know as Lucas North has abducted your son from his school. All this has to do with Albany – I've brought Ruth in on what it is. The rest of your family and mine are en route to the Grid for their protection; I've ordered a team to monitor Graham, Catherine, and their families."

The look on Harry's face was indescribable, and Ruth felt her gut twist even more. He very calmly put the phone back to his ear and said, "Prime Minister, I'm afraid we're going to have to cut this short. My son has been abducted and I need to track down and kill someone immediately, with prejudice. Thank you for your understanding, sir." He hung up the phone.

Ruth reacted with horror when he yanked the phone out of the wall and threw it across the room with an animalistic scream of pure rage and agony. "Harry," she choked out.

He turned and looked at her, face red, flushed, unrestrained anger in his eyes – but the tears welled up when he saw her, and he opened his arms, begging her to come to him. She did as he asked without words, and held him close. "Harry," she whispered, "I don't know what to do. I don't know – it all went downhill so quickly and I don't – it's my fault –"

"No, it is not," Harry ground out between clenched teeth. "It is not your fault. You didn't invite that man to kidnap our Jamie, did you?"

"No, but I should have put surveillance on the school or something – god, Harry, what are we going to do?" she breathed.

Ros's phone rang and she grabbed for it. "Beth – what? WHAT? _SHIT_. Get back here as fast as you possibly can." She hung up and said, "We find Lucas North. Now. I don't care what favors we have to pull, or who we have to bribe, kill, maim, or steal from – we find him now. He is a dead man walking."

Ruth saw the flinty determination on Ros's face, and knew immediately. "Oh god, Ros –"

"Emma is the last bit I have of Andrew," Ros said. "And I will have her back alive. Immediately."

Harry exhaled and said, "Her nanny?"

"Dead," Ros said curtly. "A quick kill; would've happened as she opened the door. I was expecting a grocery delivery at ten this morning. Lucas could have posed as the delivery person and gained access easily." She shook herself and said, "We're too close to this, Harry."

"We are," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean that we won't put a kill order on him. It just means we might do it more quickly than others who would seek to… rehabilitate him."

"No," Ros said. "He's going to die. The code is dead, Harry. There is no alternative."

"There is no alternative," he agreed, "but we find the children first. Once we have them, we can take him down."

"We should be prepared to use the secondary Albany file as bait," Ros said. "Leave the primary in position and offer him the secondary. The laptop we can wipe remotely."

Harry's face was grim as he nodded. "There is no alternative but the appearance of treason," he capitulated. "I will inform Special Branch, the Home Secretary, and the Prime Minister. They will request that we find another way in case the remote hack does not do as it is meant to."

Ros looked at Ruth and said, "I will not condone putting our children on the line." She glanced back at Harry. "I refuse to be put in a position where my child will be used against that monster. If one hair is harmed on her head, I will put a bullet between his eyes myself."

"If any harm comes to either of our children…" Harry's low, grave voice petered out into a bit of a sob.

Ruth couldn't speak, could barely keep breathing. Everything had boiled down to a point where it was them versus the world and they were on the losing side. Never had she imagined what it would be like to have her child taken from her and held hostage – and Harry was reliving his worst nightmare all over again. This was not the first time for him.

He was remarkably calm, but she could see the murderous rage seething beneath the surface.

* * *

><p>Ruth had fought with Harry and Ros, citing Tariq's need for back-up while the rest of the team covered the coffee shop. Lucas had called for a meet, citing that he had no intentions of harming the kids, and wouldn't they like a cup of coffee while they had their little chat? Calum had been on leave for a few days, since he'd broken his ankle on their last major operation; he would normally be backing Tariq in the surveillance van. Harry had finally relented when he realized that she just needed to be there, to know that Jamie and Emma were all right.<p>

But he and Ros would be staying on the Grid, under stringent security with Rose, Daisy, and Malcolm. They could all hear and see what the team heard and saw; it was a good trade.

"Alpha One in position," Erin said down the wire.

"Beta One in position," Beth added.

"Alpha Two in position; waiting for pre-arranged signal," Dimitri said.

"CO19 in position," Tariq said. "They have kill shot orders, but not at the expense of the kids."

Ruth licked her lips and watched the monitors.

Erin's phone rang. Ruth could hear her speaking. "Please let me come inside and – Lucas, please. I know you don't want to hurt them." Abruptly, she stopped talking. "Ruth, he's devolving – we're going to have to storm the shop if he won't come out. We don't even know if he has the children here or not."

Ruth was about to speak when her phone rang. "Hello?" she said cautiously, not recognizing the number.

"Ruth," Lucas said. "I don't want to hurt the children; I know you have a sniper team in position. I'm not stupid. I will let the kids go – straight to Erin – if you promise they will hold back the kill shot."

She immediately said, for the benefit of her wire, "Harry, hold the kill shot. He will let the children go if we hold the kill shot."

There was a long pause. "Agreed," Harry said crisply. "I want proof of life immediately."

"Proof of life," Ruth said into her phone.

"Mummy, I want to go home," Jamie whimpered down the line a moment later. "I miss Scarlett and Fidget and Lily and Darcy and you and daddy and Rosie and Daisy –"

Her breath caught in her throat, and she whispered, "Harry – he's alive."

"I will hold the shot," Harry said, his voice pinched and tight.

"We'll hold the shot," Ruth relayed to Lucas.

"The kids will go straight to Erin," Lucas said. "After that, I will come out of the shop."

Ruth whispered, "Agreed."

She watched Jamie walk out of the coffee shop holding Emma's hand; they went straight to Erin, who picked Emma up and took Jamie's hand. They all but ran for cover.

Lucas came out of the shop – and took off running. Shouting and shots fired –

Ruth's heart was in her throat. The door of the van burst open and Lucas smashed something into Tariq's face. He grabbed Ruth, a full on hold – he wasn't playing games. She kicked out and fought with all her strength, but he hissed in her ear, "Don't make me snap your neck, Ruth – but I will if you don't cooperate. I let the children go. Now I have you." He threw her into the back of a plain white van, knocking her head hard against the floor. She looked up at him, dazed, as he tied her up and gagged her.

They drove along, and as she was unrestrained by seat belts, she was rolling around the back. "A straight swap, Harry – Ruth and Albany. You have ninety minutes or you'll never find the body," Lucas said coldly. "We both know that's not enough time for you to find me."

Ruth was glad that, at the very least, Jamie would be safe. That he would get to go home and see his daddy again. And that Emma would be safely with Ros. It was almost worth sacrificing her life for.

As soon as he'd hung up the phone, Lucas said, "Jamie's a good boy. You should be proud of him; he's not at all like his father."

Ruth closed her eyes and sent up a tiny prayer to the god she'd forgotten to believe in. If this were to be her revelation, could it not have been a bit less painful?

END PART EIGHTEEN


	19. Chapter 19

Nineteen:  
>Death on a Pale Horse<p>

The part where Lucas picked her up and carried her on his shoulder, his shoulder poking into her stomach awkwardly and making her want to vomit into the gag, was the worst part of Ruth's abduction. He was actually quite solicitous for being a psychopathic lunatic, which was a jarring disconnect between them.

After a couple minutes of fumbling with the equipment, he came over and pulled her gag off. "Do you want some water?" Lucas inquired.

"No."

"Suit yourself," he said, pulling up a chair and studying her. "Why did you have to be so good at what you do, Ruth? Why did you have to be the legendary Ruth Evershed instead of just looking the other way?"

A muscle in her cheek ticked. She weighed her words very carefully, then said, "Do you know what Albany is, Lucas?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," Lucas said firmly.

"How can you not care?" Ruth shot back furiously. "How can you not care about the fate of millions of people?"

"There's only one person whose fate I care about right now," Lucas said simply. "And that's why I'm doing this, Ruth. Have you ever felt so strongly for someone that you would do anything for them? Anything at all to protect them and keep them and nurture them?"

She cocked her head to the side, unable to believe that he had sold out his country for love. It would take so much more than that for – and she stopped herself short. Her train of thought derailed completely, and she closed her eyes, knowing that Cotterdam had been her Albany. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I do."

Lucas looked her straight in the eye and said, "Harry?"

"Don't," she said warningly. "Don't you dare try to think that for one moment you are doing something noble, Lucas. Albany is a genetic weapon. It will kill millions, if not billions, of people. What you have done is unconscionable at best."

"Why should any one nation have the ability to launch an attack like that?" Lucas asked, smiling a little. "Why not give it to them all and watch the world collapse?"

"You're mad," she whispered.

"No, I'm just a glass half-full kind of a guy," he said with cheer in his voice. "And my name isn't Lucas – you already knew that, though. Nice to meet you, Ruth… I'm John Bateman. Too bad we can't shake hands, but I don't trust you not to use some of those tricks Harry's taught you."

She exhaled and licked her lips. "Maybe I will take some water," Ruth said. "But from an unopened bottle."

He rolled his eyes. "Please. If I wanted to drug you, you would know it. If I wanted to kill you, you would definitely know it."

"How would you do it, then?" she challenged.

"A bullet, back of the head. Messy and painful, but quick," Lucas replied cheerfully.

She swallowed, tensing up a bit. Her shoulders began to ache from the way her arms were tied back. "Why are you doing this? Surely you know Harry and Ros won't give Albany to you. Especially not now. Not after you've taken Jamie and Emma – they're children, Lucas. We're not civilians – you can do what you like with me – but _children_? You're a monster."

"Yes," he agreed. "Yes, Ruth, I am. I've killed more people than you will ever know. I don't want to kill you; I don't want to harm you at all. Maybe in a different time, we could have been friends – maybe even lovers, if you hadn't met Harry."

She shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "If I hadn't met Harry, I'd still be married to Rose's father. And I would be miserable."

"When did you meet Harry?" Lucas inquired.

"Why do you care?" she shot back. "You don't care one fig about me; you've made that patently obvious."

"Harry used to do a lot of field work," Lucas said. "They usually sent me as his secondary. He used to pull women at the pub like it wasn't even a thing – I remember once when he took home twin sisters…"

Ruth gritted her teeth; she knew Harry had a less than stellar track record with women. "Make your point," she ground out.

"I remember when everything changed," Lucas said. "He was posed as a teacher; I was a janitor. We were just finishing up the op and he wanted to go pull at the pub, like always. Funny thing is, that time, I managed to get out of there with a hot piece of ass faster than he did – he was mooning and swooning over some mousy little thing in the corner, and I took a supermodel wannabe back to the hotel. I didn't see him for the entire weekend; he was shacked up with whoever he took home. A week or so later, he came back to work and after that, he didn't so much as look at a woman. So what makes you so different that he had to have you?" he challenged.

Ruth lifted her chin defiantly. "Keep your supermodel wannabes," she hissed coldly.

"When did you meet Harry?"

"None of your business."

His hand suddenly shot out and he grabbed her chin, hard. "We've still got an hour," Lucas said. "There's a lot I could do to you in an hour…"

"You're hurting me," she forced out. Her jaw still ached from when she'd hit her head a week prior, and he was squeezing hard enough to make her want to scream.

"I don't care," he said. "Answer my question."

She swallowed hard. "I met Harry in Cheltenham. At a pub," Ruth choked out. "I was out with some friends from work on a Friday night. He was charming and I was lonely."

Lucas's eyes narrowed. "You're the one that changed him," he accused.

"Maybe so," she acknowledged. "Maybe for the better."

Lucas sneered at her. "Right," he scoffed more than slightly sarcastically.

"You asked if I had ever felt that kind of love," she said sharply, "and Harry is it for me. Over and done, Lucas. I wouldn't touch another man now –"

He looked at her full-on, and she immediately regretted saying that. The darkness in his eyes was beyond madness, beyond frightening. And somewhere in that depravity, two and two made a bushel of potatoes.

And she was bound at the wrists and the ankles.

* * *

><p>Lucas put the gag back between her lips. "I don't want you to tell Harry about our little… indiscretion…" he said softly, almost kindly. "And he only need know that you're alive and well for him to do what I need."<p>

Ruth bit back a sob; she'd cried and cried and begged him to stop, but he was intent on making someone pay the price for his dive off the deep end of sanity. Her skin crawled where he'd touched her so gently, turning her body's reactions against her. The worst part was feeling him inside her, where Harry should have been – it hurt, and she hurt emotionally and physically. Harry would never forgive her; she would never forgive herself.

Lucas pressed a kiss to her forehead, and he said, "Now I know why Harry was so beguiled."

She almost vomited.

She retreated into the shell of herself, ignoring everything around her. It was the only way she would survive. But now she didn't want to survive; she didn't want to live another moment feeling Lucas's hands on her.

Ruth startled when he sat down beside her. "I've got to step out," Lucas said in a calm, cool voice. "Be a good girl for me," he murmured, sliding his arm around her. She recoiled, but he was stronger than she was, and held her close. She cried out in surprise when she felt the needle.

"NO – what have you done?" Ruth sobbed, but he just held her, rubbing her arm, murmuring things that were meant to be soothing. She felt her heartbeat slow, her eyes get heavy, and she wondered…

Was this what it felt like to die?

* * *

><p>She didn't want to wake up; the voice telling her to wake up was annoying. She swatted weakly at the source of the voice and mumbled under her breath. The voice grew more insistent, and Ruth finally managed to open one eye.<p>

"Oh thank god," Harry breathed, cupping her face in the palms of his hands. "She's alive –"

She was disoriented, everything was too loud like a percussive wave, and she felt sick to her stomach. Someone pulled an IV line out of her hand, and she moaned, mumbling about the horrible dream she'd been having.

A few minutes passed, and clarity slowly returned. Ruth felt the sedative slowly release its grip on her, and she began to realize that the nightmare had been real. She pulled away from Harry and stumbled over her feet, falling over and landing on her bum hard enough to rattle her teeth in her head.

"Ruth –"

"No, don't, don't touch me," she whispered. "Please don't. I can't – Harry, I can't bear it if you touch me." His hands fell to his sides, clenching into fists. "Harry, did you give him Albany?"

"I gave him the secondary file," Harry said. "After he synchronized the codes, it began to wipe the hard drive. Whatever he gives his benefactors, it will be useless."

She hesitated, then nodded. "Please tell me Jamie is safe –"

"Let me help you up," he sighed, extending a hand to her. She took it only long enough to get to her feet, then she shied away again. "Ruth, what –"

"Ninety minutes is a long time," she whispered, looking away from him. "A terribly long time."

He took her hand and whispered, "You need to be looked over – and have a rape kit performed."

"How can you be so calm?" she asked, flinching at the rising hysteria in her voice.

"I'd like to kill him, but it won't do me any good," Harry commented dryly. "So I'm being calm for your sake, Ruth."

"Don't think you should have to be calm for my sake," she whispered. "I feel dirty and sick and god, I hate myself –"

He pulled her into his arms and whispered, "No, please don't hate yourself. This is not your fault, Ruth. It is the fault of a madman –"

"John Bateman," she said. "His name is John Bateman."

"We're going to the hospital," Harry said firmly.

She shook her head. "I'm fine – I will be fine."

"You were –"

She shook her head and muttered, "He tried to make it good. That's why I hate myself; I reacted."

Harry's face was unreadable. "You're alive and in one piece," he said softly. "I suppose that's the best outcome we could have garnered."

"I need to see Jamie," Ruth said quietly. "I need to know he's okay."

"He's fine," Harry murmured. "Lucas – John – didn't hurt him. Or Emma."

She hesitated, then nodded, wanting to tell him that it was good that he hadn't hurt the children, because he had hurt her so badly she could barely keep breathing. It was emotional, not physical, in her case. She could hardly breathe, and the gentle pressure of Harry's hand against hers was enough to make her feel like her world was about to shatter around her.

"She needs time to get the sedative out of her system," the medic was saying to Harry, "but if you feel more secure using your own facility's emergency services, Sir Harry…"

"I do," Harry snapped. "Ruth, let's go back to Thames House."

She nodded and followed him slowly and meekly.

* * *

><p>"No, Harry," Ros said. "I don't care what Lucas says – you at the DG. You are not meeting him. I will meet him, and I will bring him in. That's final. You need to be here, with your family."<p>

Ruth stroked Jamie's hair and held him closely on her lap as he slept. She wanted to sleep, too, but no one would let her; the lingering effects of the anesthetic meant she could go too far under and not wake up again. So Harry was watching her like a hawk.

"You're right," Harry agreed, "but you need to be here, as well –"

Ros shook her head and said, "Harry, in this job, it's selfish of us to love anyone. He's got a bomb at a Tube station – and it's selfish of me to think that staying here and protecting my daughter is more important than protecting the lives of everyone else in the country. He holds you and I responsible for this; and we are responsible for his… lover… dying. This is what broke him. We broke him."

"Rosalind, you be careful," Harry said very quietly. "You've cheated death many times –"

Ros smiled wanly. "It's my turn," she said. She glanced at Ruth and murmured, "If anything happens to me, I've named Harry as Emma's guardian. Just so you know: I want you to adopt her, raise her well."

"Nothing is going to happen to you," Ruth murmured.

Ros shook her head and said, "If I don't come back, promise me, Ruth."

"I promise," Ruth said automatically.

"I've cheated death too many times," Ros said. "And now I'm looking down the barrel of mortality, and I don't like it at all."

"No one does," Ruth breathed, closing her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them, Ros was gone and Harry had Emma on his lap as she slept.

* * *

><p>"They've got two bodies," Tariq said very quietly. "He shot Ros and then dove off the top of the Tower."<p>

Ruth met Harry's unflinching gaze, and he kissed the top of Emma's head. She was cheerfully playing with his thumbs, and babbling quietly, not knowing that her life had just changed forever. It was devastating. It was terrible.

It was so very Ros, charging in cynically to save the day…

Ruth wondered if maybe, just maybe, Lucas had shot her, and she had kicked him off the roof.

The idea brought a smile to her lips.

A vindictive smile.

Vindictive thoughts.

But they blew away as quickly as they had begun, and she knew that Death had only called home those who had needed to go to restore balance and harmony to the universe.

For every evil that died, so must an equal amount of good.

Harry very quietly said, "We need to figure out where Emma is going to sleep."

Ruth glanced at him; he was braver than anyone she would ever know, standing out on the wall, stronger than every other man. The least she could do was not let him stand against the elements alone.

END PART NINETEEN


	20. Chapter 20

Twenty:  
>A Life Worth Living<p>

Ros's funeral was held on what turned out to be a very warm, sunny morning. It felt wrong, somehow, that someone whose outlook on life was so grim, so steely and determined, would be put to rest on such a lovely day. If she'd have had to pick a day, Ruth would've said Ros would be buried on a miserable Monday morning in January, the air cold and angry as it whipped around the mourners, bitterly cold, and the sky pissing down frozen mist.

But, then again, Ros was with her beloved Andrew again. So maybe the sunshine was apropos.

The last few days had been a shock and adjustment for them all. Jamie wasn't pleased with having to share his room with Emma. Social Services had paid more than one visit to the house and commented on the state of flux in which the house ran, but had agreed that there was adequate care for Emma with them – considering Malcolm and Rose were already trading care of Jamie back and forth, it wasn't a leap to add Emma to it.

For her part, Emma, being all of not quite two years old, just wanted her mummy. She cried a lot, hollering for "Mama" and "BeeBee", and it had taken them a few hours to realize that "BeeBee" was Barbara, her deceased nanny. Ruth had stepped in and gently tried to sway the little girl but it was tough going. Eventually, on the fifth day, Emma had toddled over and reached for her, calling, "Oof." It was close enough, and Ruth pulled her onto her lap and cuddled her, reading one of Jamie's old baby books to her.

Ruth slept on the couch, next to the baby monitor. The couch wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was easier for her to sleep there, with her petite frame, than to try to make Harry do it. Every time Harry touched her, her skin crawled and she felt sick to her stomach. Lucas would haunt her forever, it seemed, and she was on medical leave for at least the next six weeks. She'd overheard Harry and Malcolm talking about sending her to TRING, and that had been the last straw. She had taken her pillows and the big fluffy down duvet and made the overstuffed reading sofa in the sitting room her bed.

She wasn't mad; she was broken and needed time to heal. Harry kept pushing the issue, and she couldn't show him how badly she needed him to stop. She couldn't find the words to tell him that she loved him so much that she couldn't bear him seeing her break down. She and Emma were two peas in a pod, lost in an open sea of confusion and pain, neither really knowing how to go about things now.

Emma squirmed and started crying loudly during the little service for her mum. It was a small service, as Ros had requested. Her parents, the team from Section D, Harry, Malcolm, and Jamie. It was a testament to the woman that had kept them glued together for as long as possible, and poor Emma hated the music. It was to be expected, really, with someone so young.

Ruth took her outside, puttering around the grounds rather than forcing her to sit still with the mourners. They walked around the graveyard, Emma playing hide and seek with the headstones, and stooping to pick a few straggling wildflowers. "Piddy, Oof," she said with a smile, bringing them back to Ruth one at a time until she had a small bouquet.

"They are very pretty," Ruth agreed. She wanted to talk to the little girl, to assure her that she would be taken care of and loved… but the words wouldn't come. It wasn't possible with the life that she and Harry were living to make that kind of a promise; Cotterdam, the uranium, and John Bateman had all seen those words of promise and revealed them to be lies.

"Oof no cwy," Emma ordered, yanking on her hand, pulling her down to the grass. Emma kissed the tears away and smiled. "Aww behher."

She couldn't tell the little girl that it wasn't all better, so Ruth just smiled and nodded, pulling the baby into her arms and holding her close. "I love you very much," Ruth whispered. "Not as much as your mummy would, but I'm going to try so hard to be the mum you deserve, Emma Lawrence. And I know you won't love me as much as your mummy, but I hope you'll call me mum in time and be happy with us."

Emma just looked up at her, her forehead crinkling with the words.

"I'm sorry, love," Ruth murmured, giving her a kiss.

"There you both are," Harry said as he came over the rise. Emma struggled to get out of Ruth's arms and ran over to jump into Harry's. "Hello, Emma – did you have fun with Auntie Ruth?"

"Piddy fowwers," Emma said, pointing at the discarded handful of flowers that lay on Ruth's lap.

"Did you pick some pretty flowers?" Harry asked with a smile. "Give us a kiss, then," he instructed gruffly. Emma obediently leaned in and gave him a sloppy kiss, grinning all the while. "Now, Emma," he said gravely, "you're going to live with Auntie Ruth and Uncle Harry. That means you'll have Jamie to play with, and Kelly and Siobhan sometimes, and Uncle Malcolm. Is that going to be all right?"

"Mama?" Emma said hopefully.

"I'm sorry, love," Harry said gently. "Mama is gone. But Auntie Ruth and Uncle Harry will take very good care of you, and we will love you as if you were our own, Emma. If I ever make a promise I don't keep, it will not be that one. From now on, you are my daughter, my little girl, and I will take care of you."

Emma made a face and clapped her little hands against the sides of his face. "Kay," she finally agreed. "Uvoo, Unca Hawweeee."

"I love you, too, Emma," he murmured, giving her a kiss. He set her back down on the ground and she tore off to jump onto Ruth.

"Oh my goodness," Ruth said softly, getting a sloppy kiss from the baby, as well. "Oh, Emma, I'm so sorry this has happened to you; but Harry and I will take care of you, love. I promise."

Emma nodded and smiled, kissing Ruth again. "Uvoo, Oof," she announced.

"Call me mum," Ruth said very softly. "Please."

Emma cocked her head and tried the word out on her tongue. "Mmmmum."

Ruth nodded and stroked the little girl's straight blonde hair. "I will be your mummy and I won't let anything happen to you," she whispered. "Okay?"

Emma hesitated, then nodded and gave her another kiss. "Kay, mmmmum."

Jamie and Malcolm came into the graveyard and Jamie ran over. "Mummy, Uncle Malcolm says we can stop for chips and steak pies for lunch!" he said excitedly, almost catapulting into his mother's lap.

"Oh he did, did he?" Ruth sighed.

"He said it's your favorite, mummy, and we should make you feel better."

Ruth nodded and hugged both children close. "I'd like that," she murmured.

"I've got to go back to work," Harry said softly. "Will you be all right?"

"Fine," Ruth said automatically. "I'll be fine, Harry." It was a lie; they both knew it. But that didn't make it any more difficult to say; in point of fact, it was maybe even easier to say knowing so surely that it was a falsehood.

"We need to talk," he said.

"All we do is talk, and we say nothing," Ruth murmured. She didn't want to upset the children by going into everything, and he would be cross when she told him what she'd decided to do. She needed time to think it through, to present it to him without all the trappings of grief, of pain, and to make it reasonable for him to understand where she was coming from.

He looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head and sighed. "I'll see you when I get home," Harry said quietly. "Be good for mummy," he told the children. Jamie nodded his assent, and Emma continued sucking on her thumb.

Ruth, however, felt like a piece of her was walking away with Harry. She knew if she didn't fix things soon, he would lose patience with her and walk away entirely. It was a situation where she couldn't just… and she wouldn't just… and it was her feelings holding her back, the shame, the anguish, the shock – it was everything she didn't, wouldn't, couldn't possibly want to feel, all jumbled together.

It would take time to unpick it.

She was patient.

He was not.

She didn't want to lose him, so she pushed him away and held him at arm's length, trying desperately to unknot the wad of pain and suffering. But the look on his face, the naked pain and concern masquerading as his façade… it broke her heart. And she knew she was punishing them both for her failures, but she had no way, no understanding, of the knowledge of what to do next.

* * *

><p>When Harry came home, everyone had adjourned to their respective spaces. Rose and Daisy were in their rooms; Rose had had a long shift at work and was decompressing by playing video games on her computer, and Daisy was trying to finish painting her latest masterpiece. Malcolm had gone to the attic to add a length of track to his train set – and the sound of the train could be heard through the attic floor, a calm, reassuring counterpoint to the storm of the day's emotions. Emma and Jamie had been bathed and put to bed without much fuss, though Emma didn't like where her bed was – they had brought her things from Ros's flat days before – and kept sneaking into bed with Jamie in the middle of the night. Ruth suspected it had more to do with needing comfort than any actual upset about the bed or its placement. Jamie was a good boy, and he tried to keep the baby calm, but he was beginning to get upset with having to share his space all the time. When he'd asked for a little brother or sister, then, he'd not realized quite what it would mean.<p>

Ruth was in the sitting room, curled up on the sofa that served as her bed, huddled under the duvet aside from her hands, which clutched a copy of _Persuasion_ as if it were a lifeline. She'd been staring at the familiar words for hours, hoping that they would resolve into phrases and paragraphs, but she was still stuck on the same page as when she'd begun. Her mind was a churning sea of memories, fears, wishes, hopes, denials, wants aborted and seeking… and she could not focus.

But when she heard the front door close and the beeping of Harry setting the alarm, she suddenly felt much calmer, much… much more focused. All of her jumbled thoughts had resolved themselves with clarity at once, and wrongs were righted again.

He moved through the hallway, going to the kitchen, rattling around in search of dinner. When he came into the sitting room, he had a leftover treacle tart and an apple in hand, and Ruth wondered how he managed to survive some days, if that was how he ate.

"I had supper with the Prime Minister," Harry said dismissively, as if in response to her unasked thoughts. "He inquired after your health. I told him that you are fine, and that the enforced leave is doing you well."

Ruth licked her lips, nervously. "Harry, I need to – to tell you something."

He held up his hand and said, "I know you've been seeing someone about the stress. I don't care, as long as they're approved by the Service."

"It's not that," she said quickly. "I – I want to leave Five."

That gave him pause. "Ruth?" he finally said.

"I don't – I've – I've given up so much already," she said in a rush. "I don't want to end up like Ros, or Danny or Zoe or Jo or Zaf or anyone else who's given everything to this country. I can't, Harry. I promised Ros that we would take care of Emma, and how can we do that if I'm off risking my life?"

He blinked, slowly. "Are you certain?" he asked, his voice growing chillier. "I can approve your transfer back to GCHQ and –"

"No, Harry, I want out completely," she murmured. "Over and done. It's too much."

He exhaled, his breath ragged. "Are you certain?" Harry repeated. "Because I was just extolling your virtues to take over as Section Head of D to both the PM and the Home Secretary at dinner this evening. They're keen, but if you're not willing… we're back to square one."

She stared at him. "You can't be serious, Harry."

"I am," he said simply.

"You can't be – I've not got the chops for it; you know I've not got the field training or the…"

"You've got the brains and the ability to think outside the box, which is what we need now. Ros played by all the rules. You won't. You will see the patterns with the cunning of an analyst, you will execute operations with a steady hand."

"Harry," she said very quietly, "I am your wife. People will assume that I've shagged my way into the position –"

"No," Harry said firmly. "There was an inquiry into Ros's and my conduct with Albany, and it has been suggested that I gave the file away to save your life. I was forced to prove to the panel by documentation that I saved you not for love, but for the good you've done the Service." He ran his hand over his face and sighed. "It was a sham, of course – a façade. Of course I did it because I love you. I would do anything for you, Ruth. You know that." He fell silent. He took a bite of his tart and chewed thoughtfully. When he spoke again, his voice was very soft, smooth, like velvet or the touch of his hand against hers. "The offer of promotion is based on my extolling your virtues, Ruth. Not because we're shagging; because god knows, we haven't been having any of that."

She snuggled deeper into the blankets and sighed. "I want to leave," she repeated; it had played such a big part of her decision, that simple realization. And now he was offering her more: a reason to stay, a hope that something would be righted that was wronged.

"I know," he said quietly.

She licked her lips and whispered, "I want to leave because we can never be more than we are together; and we've never been further apart, Harry."

He exhaled and finished his tart before he said anything. "You've been very clear with your feelings, Ruth. I've merely been following your wishes by leaving you alone."

"I was wrong," she said very quietly. "I need you and all I've done is push you away because I don't want you to see how much I'm hurting. It's been a week, Harry, and I'm foundering without you." She took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose. "I need you." The words were simple, but the sentiment behind them was more complicated than could be fathomed.

The tension in his shoulders was visible from where she was lying. He looked at the apple, then her, then muttered, "Sod it." He chucked the apple across the room and they both watched it rolling toward the empty fireplace. "I would never hurt you, Ruth. You know that."

"Yes," she murmured, "but I'm very adept at hurting myself."

He looked down at his hands and sighed. She looked away and closed her eyes. She opened them again when the felt the end of the sofa cushion dip under his weight, near her feet. "I know this is difficult," he said softly, "all of it. But pushing me away –"

"I'm not pushing you away any longer," Ruth said firmly. She sat up, the duvet falling away from her, revealing her nightshirt and bare legs to him. "I'm not," she repeated, reaching out to stroke his cheek. The day's stubble was there, rough beneath her touch, and she'd never been so overwhelmed by the feeling of love as in that moment, contemplating losing him completely. "And I will – I will think about your offer, Mr. Director General."

He exhaled and nodded, leaning into her touch. "All right," he agreed. "Meanwhile, Erin's in charge, and she's having a bit of a meltdown."

Ruth hid a tiny smile from him. "I'm sure she is," she said softly.

He took her hand from his cheek and turned it over in his own, using his left hand as a support as he wrote 'I love you' on the palm of her upturned hand using his right index finger. It was the single most romantic thing he'd ever done. And when he added a raised eyebrow and a scribble of, 'Come to bed?', she began to cry.

He took that as a bad sign and squeezed her hand, leaning in to kiss her cheek before he released her and left. She covered her face with her hands and wept with the abandon of someone whose life had changed irrevocably. The shock was beginning to wear off, finally, and she was left flayed, raw, bleeding her soul for anyone who would take the time to see it.

It was nearly eleven when she stopped crying. It was too late; he would be asleep already. So she stayed where she was, shaking and exhausted from the effort of attempting to hold herself together.

Five minutes till twelve, she got up to use the loo. The house was silent, but for the sound of Scarlett's toenails on the tiles as she followed her mistress into the downstairs bathroom. The little dog looked up at Ruth and wuffled, so Ruth reached down and scratched behind her ears. Still sleepy and a bit disorientated, Ruth flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and found herself in the master bedroom instead of back on the sofa in the sitting room.

Harry startled awake from the sudden noise. "Jamie, go back to bed," he grunted. "It was just a bad dream. There's no such things as monsters, I promise you."

Ruth hesitated for a long moment, then murmured, "But there are, Harry."

He flipped over immediately and turned on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with dim light. "Ruth?"

"And it wasn't a bad dream; god, I wish it were," she added. She felt so vulnerable, exposed, standing there like a small child in the night.

He seemed to make a decision then, and rose from bed. She wanted to step away, to put space between them even as he came closer, but she couldn't move if she tried. He wrapped her up in his arms and held her so close; her heart beat erratically at the contact, her mind spiraling out of control as images and memories and flashes of guilt assailed her, but in the end… it would be his gentle touch that would redeem her, that would save her.

He kissed her gently and whispered, "I love you, Ruth. For better or worse, remember?"

She paused, hesitated, nodded. "I remember," she whispered.

"Come to bed," he whispered, his gentle voice writing an invitation that her heart longed to fulfill. "Please, my love."

She nodded and let him lead her to their bed, where he covered her with the blankets and held her so very close, not allowing her space for her treacherous thoughts and belief in her failings and shortcomings.

It was the first time in a week that she actually slept.

END PART TWENTY


	21. Chapter 21

Twenty-one:  
>Like Tomorrow Doesn't Exist<p>

Emma looked up at Ruth with her enormous brown eyes and said, "Fow me?"

Ruth chuckled and gestured at the white cupcake with its pink strawberry frosting on it. "It's all yours, Emma," she promised.

Emma's face split into a huge smile. "Yay! Cake!"

Ruth and Malcolm had endeavored to make Emma's second birthday as enjoyable for the little girl as they could; she'd been taken to the park to play, and they had gone to the children's theatre earlier in the day for the puppet show, and now she had her favorite dinner of chicken, rice, and mushy peas – and cake besides.

Everyone else had acquiesced to eating the same thing as Emma, but with a little more flavor involved, and there were cupcakes enough for everyone. Harry hadn't come home from work as of yet, but Ruth knew that he would if he could.

The little party was almost as much as a success as Jamie's fourth birthday had been; he'd had a Paddington-themed party, complete with a little blue coat, wellies, and a big hat. He was still talking about it like it had just happened. Soon, they would be planning more elaborate parties for Emma, too.

Ruth was saddened by the fact that Emma had lost so much in her young life; she'd never known her father, and she most likely wouldn't remember her mother when she got older. So Ruth was determined to be the best mother she could be, for Emma's sake. Not just because she should have always been the best mother she could be, for Rose and Daisy and Jamie, but because she would have to prove herself more with Emma. Emma who would always assume that she wasn't wanted; like Daisy had done when she was younger.

Emma put her finger in the frosting and smiled up at Ruth. "Mine," she said cheerfully, licking the icing off her finger with a slurping noise.

Jamie said, "Mummy, can I have a cuppy cake please?"

The front door opened and closed loudly. "I'm sorry I'm late," Harry shouted. "But I had to stop and acquire a birthday present for a very sweet little girl –"

He came into the kitchen and both his eyebrows raised upon seeing Emma sitting in her high chair, face smeared with pink frosting. "Oh, I see," Harry said. "Maybe after the cake."

Ruth smiled and said, "Your dinner is still in the oven, keeping warm. Chicken, rice, and peas."

Harry smiled wanly and went to the cupboard to get a jar of brown gravy; she didn't blame him for wanting to jazz up the food a bit. "Presents after the cake," he said firmly.

"Yes, presents after the cake," Malcolm agreed.

Harry cobbled together his supper and ate it as quickly as the others were devouring the cupcakes. The speed at which he was eating gave Ruth a sense of what his day had been like, and that he probably hadn't eaten anything since his toast and coffee first thing in the morning. She got up and joined him at the counter, and murmured, "Slow down or you'll give yourself indigestion, Harry."

He sighed and whispered back, "I sent Hermione out for Emma's gift – I had too many things on to go myself. I'm actually not sure what she got, as it was already wrapped. I'm a bit afraid for my wallet."

She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Cupcake, love?"

"No, I'm attempting to keep my girlish figure," he said wryly.

She felt such love and devotion when she looked at him like that, just eating and being himself, that it took her breath away. She faltered for a moment, forgetting the past and just seeing him for the man that she loved above all others; the one person she would give anything for willingly, if only it were asked of her. His eyes were beautiful, so full of emotion and truth – and right then, she saw such visions of hope and sweetness within them.

She smiled again, a little hesitantly, but she didn't look away like she had been doing since Albany. This time, she met his gaze, and even felt her heart skip a beat.

Would tonight be it, then? When everything came back together?

He brushed his fingers across the back of her hand and murmured, "Do you fancy a glass of wine later? It is Saturday, after all. No work tomorrow, just the grandbabies and Sunday lunch."

She nodded and murmured, "I'd like that – a white, though."

"I'll chill it and we'll take it upstairs," he said softly. "We can watch a movie and…"

"And?"

He shrugged and moved away a bit. "And."

She didn't want to break contact with him, so she reached out and grabbed his hand. "_And_," she said with emphatic import.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward almost imperceptibly. "Ruth –"

She pulled him down so she could breathe into his ear. "Wine and a movie and… us. _And_. It's a very powerful word, and."

He did smile this time. "Are you sure?"

She nodded and whispered, "Very."

Emma giggled and Ruth turned her attention to the little girl. "Oh my god, Emma, how did you get that much cake in your hair?" Ruth gasped.

Jamie was laughing so hard his face was purple. Malcolm just looked horrified at the thought of a small child crushing cake and frosting into their hair. Rose and Daisy were just sitting there, pretending not to laugh.

"Pwesents now?" Emma asked with a huge smile. "Cake done!"

Harry gave Emma a dirty look. "No, we're cleaning you up first," he said firmly. "And then presents."

Emma pursed her lips together, then let out a sigh. "Kay," she muttered.

Harry set his plate on the countertop and got some wet wipes to swab her down. "You, Emma, are a mess," he sighed. "A very untidy mess." Once he'd gotten at least the majority of the cake out of her hair and off of her face, he gave her a kiss. "Better now," he said softly.

"Pwesents?" Emma asked hopefully.

"Yes, presents," Ruth agreed with a smile. "How about this one first?" she asked, retrieving one of the presents on the counter. "It's from Daisy."

"Yes, peas!" Emma cried.

She tore through all the packages, save Harry's and Ruth's, squeaking excitedly at stuffed animals and books and small toys. Ruth had bought her a new dress and shoes to match, and saved it for after all of the fun gifts. "Now, Emma, this is from mum," Ruth said softly, "and I hope you like it."

Emma said, "Big pwesent!" and tore at the paper excitedly. She smiled up at Ruth upon seeing the rainbow striped dress and the sparkly mary janes. "PIDDY, MUM!"

Ruth leaned over and brushed a kiss over the little girl's forehead. She tasted like clean baby, a bit like wet wipes, and a bit like frosting; a queer combination, but so much like a child. Jamie had been much the same when he was quite small.

"Last one's mine, then," Harry said. He got the silver-wrapped gift from the countertop and passed it over.

It felt strangely heavy, so Ruth placed the box on the table; Emma ripped it open with glee. What was revealed inside was so lovely, so thoughtful, Ruth began to cry. Hermione had gotten a photo of Ros and Andrew framed in a lovely, heavy, silver frame.

"Mama," Emma sighed softly, reaching out and touching her picture.

Harry had tears rolling down his face, as well; he truly hadn't known what Hermione would get up to, did he? Maybe he thought she would do something sensible like get a doll? "Do you want us to put your picture of Mama and Daddy on the wall?" he asked, choking up.

Emma looked up at them, sad and lonely looking for the first time in days. She nodded and sighed, then grabbed her new stuffed penguin and hugged it tight.

Ruth sniffled, stopped crying, and moved to hug the little girl. "I love you, Emma," she whispered.

"Uvoo, mum," Emma whispered.

"Come on, love – let's go get you a bath and we can sing together," Ruth said softly.

"Gawiweo!" Emma cried. It didn't surprise Ruth at all that Emma wanted to sing _Bohemian Rhapsody_; after all, Ros had confessed once that it was her favorite song, despite it's insane popularity and retro appeal.

"All right," Ruth agreed. "Give everyone kisses." When she'd done as she was asked, Ruth said, "Harry, can you see Jamie to bed, please?"

"Of course," Harry said. "Come, James, let's get you a shower and fresh pajamas. And then we can continue reading Macbeth."

Jamie grinned at him and yelped, "YAY!" He hopped down from the table and took off at speed.

Ruth shook her head and sighed. "Macbeth?" she challenged.

He shrugged. "I thought he might balk a bit at Hamlet," Harry said mildly. "He seems to love it."

"It's violent," she sighed. "Of course he loves it – he's your son." Emma tugged on her hand, and Ruth followed the little girl out of the room.

* * *

><p>Harry was in the en suite, when Ruth finished putting Emma to bed. Jamie had fallen asleep halfway through a scene, so Harry had studiously marked where they'd left off in the play and beat a hasty retreat while Ruth settled Emma. Now it was nine o'clock on a Saturday night and he had wine chilled and uncorked on the bedside table and a slew of movies lain out across the bed, as if he thought she wouldn't choose <em>The Red Shoes<em> again. It was almost sad, this touching cross-section of their lives, the stolen minutes together away from the children and work.

She picked up a movie at random, shaking her head and chuckling when she saw it was, in fact, _The Red Shoes_. "Harry?"

"Put in whatever you like," he said gruffly, appearing in the doorway, a bit disheveled, and half dressed. His trousers were off, giving her a magnificent view of his muscular legs and just the very tip of his foreskin, but he still had his socks, dress shirt, and tie on. The man didn't get undressed in any order that made sense to her, never had, but when he was rumpled and vulnerable like he was, she thought he was perhaps the most perfect, most gorgeously sexy man she'd ever seen. All those hardbody Hollywood dreamboats with their perfect smiles and their abs for days had nothing on her paunchy, balding, half-dressed husband.

She raised an eyebrow, then said, "And what if I'd like you?"

"You still need to put something on to cover up the noise," he said, giving her a dour look.

Ruth laughed and chose something other than _The Red Shoes_ – it ended up being _North By Northwest_. She loved classics as much as he did, but Harry had a thing for Hitchcock films, and it had been a while since he'd indulged himself. "How is this?" she asked, holding it up.

"Fine," he agreed. "Shit, I can't get this unknotted…"

"Let me help," she murmured, getting up and coming over to work on his tie. "Bloody hell, Harry."

"I don't even know how it got that tight," he grumbled as she finally worked the knot loose.

"You get worked up and play with it," she reminded him gently. "And that makes it tighter."

He scowled at her and gestured at the TV. "Are you going to put the movie on?"

"Are you going to be a grumpy Gus all night?" she shot back irritably. "I'm only trying to help."

He sighed and ran his hand over his head. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I'm bad company, aren't I?"

"No," she murmured, "you're just… upset about something and you don't want to say anything because you're afraid you'll upset me." Ruth could tell from the look on his face that she'd hit the nail straight on the head. "What's the matter, my love?"

He sighed and shook his head. "No, it's nothing." Harry pulled away and went back into the en suite. When he reemerged, he was in a t-shirt, sweatpants, and bare feet. She wondered briefly if he'd put his trunks back on or if he was hoping for sex and had left them off. She was hoping for the latter, because once they got a bottle of wine put away, she was content to surprise him with her newly-found want of him.

If he was willing, that is. She knew she'd been less than forthright about her wants over the previous weeks, since the Albany incident, but now she knew without a doubt that she was moving forward instead of lagging behind. She couldn't bear the hurt, the pain, any longer. She wanted everything to be right between them again, and she loved him so much her heart ached with it.

She put the movie on and retreated to the en suite to change while he got the wine poured. When she came out of the loo, she was in one of her satin chemises, the thin fabric clinging to her curves in what she hoped was an alluring fashion.

Harry didn't seem to notice; if he did notice, he didn't seem to care. He handed her a glass of wine and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up around his waist. "C'mere," he insisted softly.

She sighed and climbed under the covers with him, snuggling up quite closely. She took a sip of wine and murmured, "Harry, I've made a decision about work."

He'd just started the film; he hit pause very quickly. "You have?"

She nodded. "I have. I will, if the offer is still on the table, take over Section D."

"Oh, thank everything," he exhaled.

"But I have a few conditions."

"What kind of conditions?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, for starters, I'd like to make at least what Ros was making in the position," Ruth said. "We're about ten thousand off that at the moment. You pay me peanuts and work me to death."

"I was going to go fifteen thousand," Harry said. "But your point is valid. Next?"

"My pension benefits need to go up accordingly."

"Of course," he agreed.

"I need a modest budget for redecorating that bloody office – the red wall must go."

"How much is modest?" Harry asked warily.

"I'll do it myself," Ruth said. "Just paint and different furniture. We can raid Ikea."

He huffed. "No Section Head of mine is turning up in Ikea," he grunted. "No, I'll take it out of my office's budget – and I'll send round some decorator's brochures. Bloody fools expected me to redecorate when I took office, but I haven't gotten round to it. You can have my budget for that."

"Okay," she said. "I reserve the right to add or subtract from my team when I see fit."

"Anyone in particular you're keen to drop?" he inquired.

"Not at the moment," Ruth said.

"I have one stipulation," Harry said.

"And that would be?"

"Erin Watts is your Section Chief."

"Dimitri has seniority –"

"Mr. Levendis has already said that he would rather be on the ground than in the hot seat," he said with a sigh. "Miss Watts has shown remarkable leadership and stability since Ros's death. I think you will do well to keep her as Section Chief."

"All right," Ruth agreed. "And one last thing…"

"Ruth, if it's about the computers –"

"No, it's not," she murmured, "though those new tablets wouldn't go amiss."

"I'll add you to the list," he said. "Now, one last thing?"

She turned in his embrace and looked at him full-on. "You have to promise me that since we're on more equal footing now, you will share the burden. That we'll go back to the way things were before…"

"Before Albany?"

"Before Cotterdam," she murmured. "You've all but shut me out since I've been back. I don't know if it's because you feel you can't trust me in the same way or if you were trying to spare me, but stop it. All right? I need you to trust me. I need you to rely on me and my discretion. Our working relationship has to be smooth."

His lips twitched, an almost smile. "Agreed," he said softly. "Now, wine and the movie. We'll talk about this more tomorrow."

She nodded and sighed; it seemed like they were suddenly back at square one. She was desperate to touch him, to kiss him and love him and… but it seemed like this time, he was the one pushing away instead of her.

She frowned and finished off her glass of wine in a hurry. She pulled away from him and got up to get more. His eyes followed her, and she said, "Sorry, just a bit thirsty."

"Obviously," he said. After a long minute, he said, "Ruth, is something bothering you?"

"No," she said quickly; too quickly. "Nothing, my love. I'm just tired. Emma and Jamie had a busy day, and so did I."

"Well, you better slow down with the wine or we'll have a bit of a problem," Harry said gently.

"We will?" she said, arching a brow.

"Yes – you get rather amorous when you've been tippling."

"Two glasses of wine aren't a tipple," she huffed.

"Love, you're on your third, and the bottle is empty," he pointed out.

"Dutch courage," she muttered.

"What?"

She sighed and threw her free hand up in the air. "I'm sorry, I just – god – Harry, we're hopeless, you and me."

"I don't understand." And he didn't; he looked bloody clueless as to what she was on about.

She finished the wine and set her glass aside. They hadn't even started the movie, not really. It was all this and that and the other thing and now…

"Harry," Ruth began, then stopped.

"Ruth," he answered back.

"This isn't easy."

"Life rarely is."

She exhaled and gestured between them. "I don't like this."

"This being… what?"

"Everything. Everything since Albany. Us. Not together. Apart." She paused, then swallowed hard. "I hate not being with you."

"Ruth, it would be uncouth of me to suggest that we have sex when you're clearly still –"

"But you see, I'm not still thinking that way," Ruth said softly. "Lucas – John – he… was a monster. He did monstrous things. The worst thing he did wasn't raping me: the worst thing he did was that he made me feel that I was dirty and awful and wrong for reacting to him." She gestured at Harry, nerves beginning to get the better of her. "I'm not ashamed anymore, Harry. How can I be? It wasn't my fault he did those things and he played those mindgames. But it is my fault that I've pushed you away when you've only been trying to help me."

Harry shook his head and sighed. "Ruth, I –"

"I need to know that you still love me, in spite of all of that, Harry, and you've been ever the gentleman about things – but I need you. I need _you_, Harry." She took a tentative step forward, then another and another, till she was on the bed, touching his chest, his belly, and daring him not to react. "I need my Harry, the man who loved me so much he took on all my baggage and asked for more." Her admission was soft, low, and so full of truth that it hurt more than any of her emotional scars.

He exhaled and said, "I don't want to add to your burdens, Ruth…"

"You won't," she whispered. "I _want_ you; I _need_ you. I am going out on a limb, Harry, asking you to love me even though I know it's hard and it might hurt."

"Ruth, I've never not loved you," he murmured, leaning forward and pulling her toward him for a tender kiss. "But I don't want to hurt you more because you aren't ready."

"I am ready," she contradicted softly.

"Dutch courage?" he sighed.

"Only in that I thought you might notice I wanted to be tipsy when I begged you to make love to me," she mumbled, blushing a little and glancing away. "So it mightn't be so awkward. But clearly, that just makes me look like a fool."

"No," he said, his voice gentle and tender. "It makes you look lovely and adorable and sweet." Harry sighed and gently stroked her cheek. "You've drunk too much wine, though," he said. "So I will politely decline lovemaking this evening. But try me again, tomorrow, when you're sober and not ready to swing from the chandelier in the sitting room, okay?"

Ruth pouted and sighed. Bloody hell, he wasn't going to make it easy, was he? "Fine," she muttered, crawling back under the covers and crossing her arms over her torso. If that's how he wanted to play it, that's how they were going to play it.

About the end of the movie, she'd finally migrated back into his arms, and he was idly caressing her thigh while she stroked his belly, and lower, her fingers creeping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants… finding no resistance in the form of trunks.

Which meant he'd been hoping for –

"Oh, Harry," Ruth sighed.

"Mmm?" he murmured sleepily.

"We're bloody useless."

"Speak for yourself," he mumbled. "Come to bed, love."

"We're already in bed."

"Mmm… so we are." He sighed and held her closer. Moments later, he was snoring.

Sadly, soon after, so was she.

END PART TWENTY-ONE


	22. Chapter 22

So, here we are... the last chapter of Chandelier. There will be a continuation, and feel free to speculate as to what might happen. (Is it all a big misunderstanding? Are we launching into the Gavriks now? WHAT'S REALLY GOING ON?)

* * *

><p>Twenty-two:<br>Typical Sunday

Ruth was startled awake by a thump outside the bedroom door. She listened for a long moment, almost satisfied that it was nothing, when she heard Emma's heavy, overexerted breathing. There was a thud against the door, and a heavy sigh from the toddler. Then Malcolm's steady, reassuring voice. "Let's leave mum and dad to sleep," he said gently. "They're very tired, Emma. Do you want an egg and soldiers for breakfast, love?"

"Peas," Emma chirped, and then there were the sounds of them moving down the corridor away from the master bedroom.

The sun was barely up, but it was already too bright for Ruth's headache. She stifled a groan and buried her face against Harry's chest. He didn't stir, nor his breathing change, so she knew he was still asleep. _Good_, she thought. _He won't see what a bloody idiot I am_. _I fail at wine, men, and song, yet again. Well, no, really, I did hit the high note in Bohemian Rhapsody last night, and Emma did enjoy it quite a lot… and you're rambling to your bloody self again, Ruth. One of these days, someone's going to cart you off to TRING._

She didn't realize her hand had been wandering, idly caressing his skin beneath the hem of his t-shirt, until she caught herself and stopped. Harry whispered, "Don't stop – that was nice."

"My head aches," she complained.

"That will teach you not to drink almost the whole bottle right before bed," he scolded gently.

"Oh, don't be smug and superior," Ruth mumbled. "What time are the kids coming?"

"Catherine was going to bring the littles over about noon," Harry said softly. "Jenny and Graham are supervising at the factory today – they're making a 500 gallon batch of body butter or something or other."

Ruth smiled and kissed his chest. "You're proud of them: admit it. They've done well for themselves."

"Jenny's done well for them," Harry contradicted. "Graham just keeps fathering children and baby-sitting."

"But they're happy. Happiness is doing well for themselves, Harry, love."

"Are you happy?" Harry asked.

It was a loaded question; seven and a half years of marriage with four of them apart could barely be called a marriage, could it? They barely spent any time together, and it seemed that the children were the glue binding them now. But she loved him, so much so that she had to stop herself gasping for breath when he walked into a room unexpectedly. Was physical, emotional, sexual attraction happiness?

"I'm content," she said softly.

"That wasn't the question."

"I know; I can't answer the question." It was honest, blunt. He sighed and pulled away from her, getting out of bed quickly. "Harry –"

"I've got to pee," he said, retreating to the en suite.

Ruth punched the pillow. "Bloody arse fuck damn bollocks," she muttered to herself. "Why the hell did you go and cock it all up, Ruth? Why again?"

Harry came out of the en suite and said, "If you're not happy, I can move my bed downstairs and –"

"Harry, stop," Ruth whispered. "So much has happened, I'm not… I'm not happy, but I'm content. I'm glad for what I have, but I'm scared to reach for more right now. Once bitten, twice shy, and all that."

"And yet, you're jumping in as Section Head –"

"That's to do with work, not home. Work isn't my happiness – not anymore." She looked over at him. "I meant it, last night. I don't like this space between us. It hurts, Harry. Please come here so I can talk to you like a normal human being, without raising my voice across the room."

"I'm trying to be a gentleman," he said.

"Bugger being a gentleman!" Ruth said sharply. "I don't need that; I need you to be Harry. _My Harry_. My Harry who takes what he wants, bugger the consequences, and skirts away with it because of his charm and his smile and the virtue of the fact that he's _my Harry_!"

"You don't need me to make you unhappy," he sighed.

"No, I don't," she agreed. His shoulders slumped a bit, despite his pretending to be unaffected. "But I do need you in order to be happy."

He hesitated a moment, seemingly unsure. "Ruth, do I – do I make you happy?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered with a smile. "You were asking the wrong question a few minutes ago; I wasn't happy because you weren't really with me. You were kind of off in that melancholy place you go to sometimes when you think I'm going to leave you."

He came back to bed, then; she knew she was probably too astute in her assessment of his emotional state, as well as her own. They were utterly hopeless, really, but sometimes, they managed to get it right. It was those times when they got it right, when everything fit together properly, when they were together, that they were truly happy.

She pulled the covers up and snuggled against him. "How about we stop talking rubbish and just… show one another how we feel?" Ruth suggested softly. "We've never cocked that up."

"I don't want to hurt you," was his equally soft reply.

"You won't," Ruth promised. "You'll only make me very happy, Harry."

"Well, if it will make you happy, my love…" he murmured. A moment later, he was kissing her, gently stroking her skin. She smiled inwardly, loving how unsure and yet certain his touch was. It brought goose pimples to her arms, and she shivered. He pulled out of the kiss and said, "Cold?"

Despite the fact that it was a warm May morning, she nodded and pulled the blankets up further over them. He took it as in invitation and soon they were naked, pressed against each other, flush and flushed, kissing and touching, reveling in the warmth between them.

He traced the smile on her lips with gentle, feather-light touches of his fingertips. "Do I make you happy?" Harry whispered.

Ruth nodded and whispered back, "Oh yes, Harry – you do. So much so."

"Ruth, I –"

She cut him off by hooking her leg around his hip. "Don't talk," she whispered. "Just feel." Her heart was beating an erratic, but lovely, tattoo as she guided him home. The initiative was hers; it had to be hers to take, for he wouldn't make a move without her consent. Even when they'd been two tentative almost-lovers in the pub, he'd waited for her assent toward his advances.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he filled her, and she licked her lips, moaning softly. His hand fell on her hip, then crept to her bum, and her eyes flew open when he all but grabbed her bum, sinking all the way in to the hilt. He held her like that for a long time, until she had to move or die from the fire in her core.

It was achingly slow and tender, their lovemaking, as if each thrust, each kiss, each touch was meant to burn an indelible mark upon their souls. And they did – by the time they came plunging from the precipice of delight into a soft feather duvet of comfort and each other, their bond was stronger than ever before. No amount of time or pain could rip them asunder again. Circumstances might dictate their lives, but their hearts were entwined in a way that couldn't be broken.

"I don't want to leave this spot," Harry mumbled, tightening his hold on Ruth's waist.

"Me, either," Ruth breathed, "but some toast wouldn't go amiss."

He grumbled. "How's your head?"

"Better," she murmured. "I seem to have found a perfect hangover cure."

"Fucking?"

Ruth shook her head. "Making love," she corrected softly, kissing his chest.

* * *

><p>"Mum?" Daisy said softly, interrupting Ruth from her shopping list.<p>

"Yes, love?" Ruth said, setting aside her pen and paper.

"I finished my canvas; will you come and see?" Daisy asked hesitantly.

"Of course, love," Ruth said with a smile. "I'm sure it's lovely –"

Daisy took her mother's hand and led her upstairs to her room. Her easel was set up with a medium-sized canvas, and the floor in the corner was covered by plastic to catch any drips. "It's… it's you and Jamie in the park."

Ruth put her hand to her lips. The trees and grass were kind of an impressionistic glorious riot of colors and emotional impressions, but the two figures - a dark-haired woman in a tea-length dress and a little boy in a jacket and jeans seen from the back, rear, about one-quarter in profile – were so realistic that they stood out as the main focus. "Daisy," she murmured, "my god, it's – it's beautiful."

Daisy paused, then smiled. "Oh, good – I thought you'd think it was rubbish."

Ruth enveloped her daughter in a hug. "God, no," she whispered. "Nothing you've ever done was rubbish, love. Not any of it." She paused. "Except maybe that essay on Chaucer, but I think it was the aside about him being an uptight twat that did it."

Daisy looked a little chagrinned. "Well, he was," she muttered. She sighed and looked at the painting. "Jameson-Wiggins Gallery wants to do a display of my work. I don't know if I should; they sell prints to Harrods and larger stores. I don't know if I should want to share."

"Margaret," Ruth said softly, "if this is your calling and what you want to do every day forever and ever, take the leap. Please. Don't find yourself my age, lacking and wanting."

"What did you want to do, mum?"

"I wanted to be a teacher," Ruth said. "But it never worked out in my favor, really."

"You'd be a lovely teacher," Daisy murmured. She smiled at her mother and said, "I've never been very good at my academia, have I?"

"Not particularly," Ruth replied. "I just thought it might be because your father is rather dull-witted, to be honest. He read History, after all." She smiled and hugged her daughter. "You've done the best you could, love. And if art is your calling, then an artist you shall be. You can stay here with us as long as you'd like – or need – to. Daddy and I don't mind at all. And you're such a help with Emma and Jamie."

"Do you think I should put my things in a gallery?" Daisy asked.

"I do," Ruth said softly. "They're so beautiful and poignant and real, Daisy. They're a marker of the human condition and love and suffering… and that is what people look for in art."

Daisy nodded, then said, "I feel a bit of a twat, being good at it."

Ruth gave her a kiss and smiled. "Never apologize for what you're good at, love. And it's quite obvious to anyone with eyes that you're brilliant."

Daisy smiled and hugged her mother. "I love you, mum," she said. "I'm glad you came home."

"Me, too," Ruth said. "I missed you all so much."

"Where is everyone?" Harry called up the stairs. "Catherine will be here in a few minutes."

"We're upstairs," Ruth said. "I'll be right down, Harry. I was thinking we could have a proper roast and gravy tonight, if someone will run out and get some turnips and more potatoes."

"I'll go," he said. "I need to make a quick trip anyway. Won't be but a flash."

"All right," Ruth sighed. "I'll text you a list."

"Thank you," he said as she came downstairs.

"For what?"

"Not asking."

"Well, it's not that I'm not curious, but if it's important…"

"It is," he said.

"Then fine."

They had this discussion every Sunday in some form or another. He would go off for a couple of hours without telling anyone where he was going or what he was doing. He would take Scarlett with him (under the pretense of taking a walk, maybe?), but he wouldn't take his phone. She worried, but there was no point in attempting to stop him: she just hoped his security detail went along with him (as she knew they did, but it never stopped her from worrying). The one time she'd asked Daniel (the head of Harry's detail) about it, he merely said that Harry had gone to Mayfair. She'd given up and just assumed it was another clandestine meeting with the Home Secretary or one of the PM's aides that he didn't want to trouble their 'day off' with.

But something in the back of her mind wouldn't let it go, assumed that he had someone else he was meeting. That she wasn't, and would never be, enough for him. She tried to quash it, but that little voice of doubt was always there. Always.

He must have sensed her unease, however momentary, because he came over and gave her a kiss. "I love you," Harry whispered. "And I will show you exactly how much when I get back."

Ruth sighed and snuggled into his embrace for a moment. "Is it a dead drop?" she asked.

"No," Harry said, tickling her. "Stop trying to find out where I'm escaping to, my love, and why. It's nothing bad, I promise."

"But you can't tell me."

"We all have secrets," he said softly.

"Yes, well, your sneaking off on Sundays isn't exactly like me confessing there's a secret ingredient in the seasoning," she murmured with a pout.

He sighed. "I'll tell you… soon."

"How soon?"

The lines on his face got impossibly deeper as he frowned; he looked so much older then, and it hurt her to see how much stress she was putting him under. "I don't know," he said, honestly. "But soon."

"Go," she said softly. "Take Scarlett with you, and enjoy the sunshine. I'll put the roast on and then Catherine and I will take the littles to the park for a while. And when you come back… we'll talk."

He agreed to her compromise; it was the same one they made every week, but by the time he got back, she would gloss over it and move on to adoring the grandbabies and playing with everyone. It was just how they worked. Harry went away, then he came back. She asked about it, he pretended it had never happened.

Something had to give eventually.

* * *

><p>Harry came inside and turned Scarlett loose. The dog took off running in search of her best friends, and Ruth heard her barking happily and lots of giggling from the small children in the sitting room. They were playing with blocks, making a castle that took up half of the room, and suddenly there was the noise of crashing blocks, and Jamie scolding, "Bad puppy!" But Kelly and Emma were laughing, so all was as it should be.<p>

She glanced over at Harry and said, "Nice outing?"

The deep lines were still there. "No," he said very quietly.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

He looked like he was at war with himself, then finally, he nodded. "I suppose it's time," he said, his voice low and laced with sadness. "Upstairs?"

"Harry, what's wrong?" she whispered, reaching out to touch him.

His face crumpled and he fought very hard to keep from crying. "Upstairs," he choked out.

"Upstairs," she agreed, rushing up the stairs and into their room with him. "My god, Harry –"

"My father," he gasped between heaving sobs. "He's dying. Slowly, painfully. He doesn't know me, but he loves Scarlett and remembers her –"

"Oh, love," she whispered. "You take her round every Sunday for him?"

He nodded and held her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder as he wept. All she could do was hold him, rub his back, try to take the pain away – and kick herself repeatedly for her stupidity, her jealousy, her nosiness. When he could breathe at last, he whispered, "I never took you to meet him because he'd never remember. Alzheimer's. And he's got cancer besides, now. Doesn't have more than a few weeks left, so I just… I bring the dog because he remembers her. It breaks my heart to see him like that, Ruth. He's just so… fragile."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I am. I am so sorry, Harry."

"I didn't tell you because you'd want to come with, and I can't bear the thought of you seeing me like this," he sniffled. "I cry, like this, all the bloody time. I can't help it."

"It's your dad," she murmured. "Of course you do."

"And then I come home and smile for the babies and you and –"

She kissed him to silence the rest of his words. "You don't have to explain anymore," she whispered. "I understand."

He exhaled and pulled away, wiping at his face. "God, I'm such a misery guts."

"My misery guts," Ruth said softly, possessively. "And I love you."

"I love you so much," he whispered. "So much more than you will ever know."

She smiled and gave him a gentle kiss. "I'll go down and check on the roast while you sort yourself out."

* * *

><p>It was Thursday night. Rose was at work; Elizabeth had come to stay for a long weekend, so she and Malcolm had taken Daisy and the littles over to Graham and Jenny's for dinner and a movie. Ruth had been puttering around the house, cleaning, and nibbling on various things that had been in the cupboard but not yet touched. Harry wasn't due home till much later, so she was pleased to be able to say that the loos were spotless and the kitchen floor had been mopped.<p>

The doorbell rang, putting Ruth's senses on high alert. She wasn't expecting any groceries; no packages this late… She went to the front door and peered out the fish-eye lens. She didn't recognize the woman on her doorstep, so she opened the door with the chain firmly on.

"Yes?" Ruth said cautiously.

The woman on the stoop looked to be about sixty or so, and Asian – Korean or Chinese if she had to put a finger on it – but with something else, maybe, mixed in. She looked as though she'd been crying for a long time, then had stopped abruptly and just stepped out into the world.

"Can you give Harry a message?" the woman said softly.

Sensing it was something to do with work from those words, Ruth said, "Yes."

"Tell him… it's from Carole," the woman began hesitantly. "Tell him… I am unencumbered. He will know what that means. And there will be a suite booked in his name tomorrow at the Flemings Mayfair Hotel; meet me at noon." With that, the woman disappeared into the night.

Ruth shut the door with a click, then sank to the recently cleaned floor and cried until she had no tears left to cry. She texted Harry the message. There was no reply; not that she expected one. Not after she'd come face to face with his mistress. Had she really been so naive to believe that he was telling her the truth about his father? He was a spy; lying was what he did. An old dog could learn new tricks, but he could not possibly ever change his spots.

The children came home and were put to bed. Malcolm and Elizabeth went upstairs. Rose came home from work and went straight to bed.

At ten minutes to eleven, Harry came home. He looked exhausted, fraught, and he had those deep lines around his eyes, his face, that made him look so much older.

All Ruth could manage to say was, "You unimaginable bastard."

_**il est terminé**_


End file.
